So, I'm a Spider… Flat, 'What'
by throwaawy
Summary: I've never had the most charmed of lives, but I never imagined that one day I would wake up how I did. No way. I mean, in a world full of powers, this is what I end up with? What do you even say to that?
1. Foreman 1

**Foreman 1**

Today was the absolute worst moment, of the absolute worst day, of the absolute worst year of my life. 'Why?' you'd ask. Well, I'll tell you! As a grown man, Very few things can top finding out my little girl, the last legacy of the love of my life, had been suffering for months—if not years—before I could even notice. I certainly wouldn't be winning any Father-of-the-Year awards in this life.

'But, Danny,' you might tell me. 'You found out in the end, so now you can start making amends. That's what's important, right?' Well, that might have been true, if not for the fact that my first inkling of the troubles my daughter was having came when a member of Brockton Bay's finest knocked on my door, hat tucked respectfully under his arm.

...side by side with a medical first responder whose suspiciously clean, yet ill-fitted jacket couldn't hide the dark stains against his shirt and pants beneath it.

...both of whom were backed up by a grief counselor.

Truth be told, I don't remember too much of the period that immediately followed. There might have been drinking involved; some quiet moments of contemplating the nature of the universe as presented by several litres of fuck-it-I-didn't-need-those-braincells-anyhow-elixir. There may have been an arrest or two for disturbing the peace. After all, I've been told that I am a man with a terrific temper.

Actually, the arrest thing might have actually happened. There was a paper trail left after Kurt had to bail me out.

But, I digress. One might think that moment would have been the worst day of my life, but that was apparently just a preview for today. Although the idea that you could be the last surviving member of your family might be the absolute rock-bottom one could reach, life likes to throw even more curve balls in the form of thirty-foot tall monstrosities the rest of the world thinks will inevitably destroy all civilisation as we know it.

So… yeah, there was that. It also didn't help that the warning came too late for me secure myself in one of the varied shelters that had been built for this very occasion. So much for one located within easy running distance no matter where an everyday citizen could possibly find themselves.

Note to future-self: if I survive, never take another casual stroll around Downtown because apparently Fortress-fucking-Construction doesn't have any of their own fucking products near their own offices.

So, to get back to the situation at hand, there's an Endbringer on the rampage. I'm exposed on the streets where random collateral damage can and will sweep up a grown man in a wave of debris—literally, in case you were wondering. Now I'm trapped beneath a web of steel and concrete that I have no hope of escaping on my own, leaving me at the mercy of the elements (of which I have been told that water, particularly, has none of) or for the heroes to win the day and then remember to dig me out before I succumb to exposure.

Meanwhile, I must content myself with the knowledge that the way my life has been going lately, it couldn't possibly get any worse. I mean, sure, I might be dead within the next few hours but really, would that be a terribly bad thing? If there is a God in heaven then I might have the chance to reunite with my family once more. Even if they hated me for being the worst father in recent memory, I could see them again. I would share manly tears with my dearly departed wife. I would apologise profusely to my daught—_holy fuck what is that?_

Something is creeping along the rubble outside my little hideaway. I'm going to refer to my surroundings as such because it allows me to pretend I put myself here on purpose, and for a reason. Because I am a responsible man who does responsible things.

I am not responsible, however, for invasions to my hideaway from something Not Human, which I am desperately hoping is not Leviathan. At least I'm fairly certain it is not him because I don't think his legs are that skinny. But then I can't imagine who does have legs that thin. Unless some of the capes in this city walk on stilts for legs. I mean, there's the possibility of one from out of the area who volunteered—bless their suicidal little hearts—to fight against an Endbringer on stilts. Or has a power that requires them to be propped up on said stilts?

Or a group of heroes… that are all wearing stilts. In a very close formation. For some reason?

…You know what? Let's just go with that. Also, given the fact that there's so many out of towners, there's a better-than-even chance that this newcomer could be somewhat friendly. It's certainly better than my original plan of drowning my sorrows away. Literally, in this case.

"…help," I heard a broken, scratchy voice call out. It sounded somewhat pathetic and I had a moment of sympathy for the poor, scared bastard who was trapped—_hiding_—down here with me, until I realised that the poor bastard is me. Oh well. In for a penny… "I'm down… down here."

The legs stopped stilting across the opening and a shape dropped down to block out the incoming light. The moment I saw the silhouette I wanted to scream at the _moron _who drew its attention. It's not a group of heroes, not even a group of capes. It's a single, relatively bulky thing with the pair of stilts I saw before skittering around until I can see that it is joined by six more of them to either side of the mass. Two of the stilts raised themselves out of view and a moment later one particularly large piece of rubble was hurled out of view, exposing a large, white surface. In the brief moment of light I saw _eyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyesEYESEYES_ before the… creature scuttled inside and somewhere to the side, disappearing from view in a blur.

I couldn't see it anymore, but I could certainly hear it. Soft ticks like toothpicks falling to the floor. Dull shifting noises of loose sand sliding across a surface. High-pitched whimpering from that terrified man who wouldn't shut up and keep from giving my position away to that thing.

Trapped as I am, with only my head free to move, I was a captive audience for the pale head that suddenly loomed out from the darkness above me. It's very… 'buggy,' is the best word I can think of. From the many legs i saw outside I'd call it a spider, but it looks like no spider I've ever seen. Two large eyes (_eyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyes_) dominate most of its face, with several smaller pairs scattered around the sides and centre of the head. Dark markings ring the largest pair—almost owl-like when compared to the rest—and stretch off to the sides. If I were in a quipping mood, I'd joke that I'd just found the nerdiest spider I'd ever seen.

The jaws of the spider looked almost… normal. As in an actual jaw rather than those pointy, mashy, stabby things you see in most nature guides for bugs and insects. They remained closed for the most part but through small gaps that open up as that mouth rapidly opens and closes as if the monster were teeth-chatteringly cold or hyperventilating, I could see two small sharp appendages to either side, like tiny internal fangs.

Oh, and it was very large. If you're wondering how I could see this much detail it's because the thing's eyes are about large as my hand. I knew this because my hand was currently pinned down beneath some rebar and my finger was close enough to brush against the car… carpal… the skin just under said eye. Going by that reference, the rest of the head must've be almost larger than my torso. This spider was… quite large.

The front two legs, which I saw to be a bit thicker and a lot more pointed than the rest of its limbs, were larger still. And—as a large slab of rock separating us is abruptly divided in half before me—also appeared to be quite sharp… and moving closer to my pinned body.

And closer… and closer still.

A small corner of my mind noticed that the very scared gentleman trapped here with me had been reduced to gibbering squeaks. The poor, scared bastard.

...

* * *

**So, I'm a Spider. Flat, 'What?'  
/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\**

a Worm/蜘蛛ですが何か crossover

by throwaawy


	2. Spider 1

**Spider 1**

What.

That's not a question. It's a statement. What.

I mean, I've had about a week to deal with this. By all rights I should be used to it by now, but… given my situation, a flat, 'what' is pretty damned appropriate, if you ask me.

I'm a spider. Yeah.

You want to know how it happened? Well, _get in line_. I mean, last I knew I was an ordinary human girl. If you want I could give you a sob story about how my life has been the furthest thing from ideal. I had really shitty friends, I had a really shitty parent—the fact that I only had one parent is bad enough, and I had the absolute worst day of my life at school… which I'm not going to talk about and if you had any sympathy in your cold, black hearts you wouldn't ask me about that.

I don't even want to _think _about it. Not again. No way.

Moving on. I've spent the last week trying to find a way not to starve to death. I've spent the last week trying not to get squished. I've been trying to figure the logic behind this cause and effect.

I mean, really. All that stuff about having a shitty week? Nothing I can think of tracks how that brings me from A to B. How does getting shoved into a—_notthinkingaboutitnotthinkingaboutit_—how does having a bad week lead to an even worse week?

Damnit, this is why the internet exists. And now I can't even use it. I've _tried_. I have no problems viewing the screens—thank God—but I simply don't have the weight to press down on the keyboard.

I'm _tiny_. I'm small enough to fit through those little vents in a locker door—_don'taskmehowIknowthat_. I'm small enough that a fruit fly could be considered a three-course meal all by itself.

Speaking of which, you know what else sucks? Insects are mostly bug juice and exoskeleton. There's very little 'meat'. How do I know that? Let's just say I do and move along. That's another thing I don't want to remind myself about.

What's good about this situation? Well, aside from not having to deal with treacherous best fri—_notthinkingaboutitnotthinkingaboutitnotthinkingaboutit_—people, being a spider isn't… _too _bad. I mean, like I said, anything several magnitudes larger than I am will probably squish me. But anything close to my own size? I can _own _that sucker.

I've got little spider threads that I can shoot out and—even better—somehow I can control where they go. With my _mind_. That's kind of awesome. So I can shoot out a sticky thread and whip it around like a lasso to catch flies in the air. I can do the normal spider thing and build myself a temporary Home using non-sticky threads in an obscure corner (so… _cozy!_). Or I could rip off an Earth-aleph cape and use my partially sticky threads as a grappling hook and swoosh across the sky..

Or I could…not use threads at all and just climb up the wall instead. With my own eight legs. Because, you know… spider.

Which reminds me of another neat thing I've discovered, no fall damage. I mean, it wasn't such a neat discovery to find that a good gust of wind can blow me off the side of a building, but aside from a dull impact, it didn't really hurt. Inverse square-cube law, become my bitch.

On the other hand, finding out I have vertigo as a spider was not so neat. So I tried doing stuff I've seen on some nature documentaries; specifically what very tiny spiders like me would use to travel relatively large distances.

Let's just say 'Operation: Parachute' is on version twenty-something and leave it at that.

So, yeah. That's basically been my week in a nutshell. Travelling as far as I can in a day (which isn't that far), finding what food I can (which is a both a lot more and a lot less than I was expecting to), and trying not to die. With the occasional detour into a person's home to try to get some news on the big-people world, I've got something almost like a routine going on. So far, so good.

Also I think I've been getting a bit better at this because I think I've been getting just a little bit further across town, going by the increasing count of the buildings I've passed. I've been getting better at this bug catching thing and catching bigger meals. Things could be worse.

**_"SQUEAK"_**

Oh, what the hell. Karma, I hate you so much. Or maybe I drew the ire of Murphy. It doesn't really matter. I had a good thing going on here. I had a routine. Cross street. Climb building. Think of new iteration for Operation: Parachute. Fall off of building. Ow. Build a Home. Catch dinner.

A Dire Rat does not fit into my daily schedule! There is no room for you, this is not copacetic!

**_"SQUEAAAAK!"_**

And you should have a cute squeak! Not a deep-brassy cry of impending doom! I don't care if you are ten-times my size, leave me alone! Is this my life now?!

**_"SQUEAK"_**

No way…


	3. Spider 2

**Spider 2**

So, apparently Dire Rats are not tricked by veeeeeeery slowwwwwwwly skittering away. Neither are they intimidated by trying to make myself look bigger by raising myself up on two legs and using the other six to gesticulate wildly.

In completely unrelated news, I can make some pretty nifty shadow puppets if I do say so myself. Have I mentioned that my limbs are quite dexterous? No? Well, it's not like it's helping me at the moment anyhow. Not important.

What is important is that I act in a cautious and non-threatening manner so that this thing has no reason to be scared of—

GAHAAAAAAAA! That's my leg! Give me back my leg!

Screw that. This tiny spider is about to put the fear of death into this stupid beast. Take this, SPIDER KICK!

…So. Fun fact, kicking something with four legs does not make the kick four times as strong. Or if it does, then I clearly could use a bit less skipping of leg day. Although I've been running around ever since I got this form so I don't know how I could have possibly been skipping—

AAAH! Stop chewing on my leg! That is not for eating! Give! It! BACK_ohGoditcameoff._

Shouldn't that hurt more?

I mean, it hurts, don't get me wrong.

But like… a bit more? Maybe I'm in shock.

Okay, good news, a spider can survive being delimbed. Fortunately, I've got plenty of backups to run away with. Also, a Dire Rat's pounce is apparently faster than my own sprinting speed. This is not good news, just in case anyone is keeping score.

Alright, time to use the skills I've worked so hard on! Get sticky threaded!

I really should work on my attack cries. Well, I can't talk, so it's not like it can hear me anyhow.

So, more good news! Dire Rats are slightly intimidated by the Wild Wild West! You are now looking at the smallest and best cowgirl in the world! Well, cowspider? I mean, I've snared myself a bucking bronco whose head is larger than I am. That's got to give me mucho cred.

I digress.

Web-lasso, bitch!

That's right. Taste the fruits of my labours! After nailing buzzing insects while in flight, a relatively slow and _ginormous _target like a Dire Rat is no challenge at all to hit with a sticky thread!

It is, however, a challenge to hold on to said Dire Rat, even when one has five legs and an impromptu set of reins to work with. At least while said rat is rolling around, jumping, dashing, and overall being an absolute monster.

'But,' you might attempt to correct me, 'spiders have eight legs, not five. Why are you slacking off?'

The answer to that is very simple.

It bit off my front two legs while I was trying to get the reins properly secured. Yes, it hurt. I'm trying not to think about it (_thankyouSOmuchforremindingme!_). But it's okay! I've still got five left! That's more than Old Me had, so I'm still in the positives!

Still, this fight is clearly not going how I'd planned it. I'd better win or else die trying!

…

Yeah.

Time for Plan B.

I'm a spider. All spiders are venomous. That means I bite you and you die. Eventually. Maybe.

…hopefully?

Judging from the fact that this Dire Rat is not dead after biting my legs off (_ohhhGodwhydidIthinkaboutit_) I am clearly not poisonous. There's a difference. Google it.

Fun fact: most spiders use their venom to inject their prey and liquidate their innards, slurping everything up after everything inside is nice and juicy. Apparently I don't work that way. I have jaws. I still use my venom to kill my dinner, but I gobble them up. And they are quite crunchy, thank you very much for asking (_ohGodwhyyyyyy_).

From that experience I can assume my venom is less for making food squishy squishy, and more for _RIPTEARCRUNCH_. So that's just what I'm gonna do.

I firmly grasp my mount and rear back, opening my jaws as widely as they can go. I can feel two appendages at the corner of my mouth swing out, each tipped with my noxious needles of… venom. I'll work on that later. Timing it carefully for maximum effectiveness—haha, nope. I just nom the Dire Rat in the back of its neck as hard as I can.

**_"SQUEAK!"_** the demon booms, renewing its wild flailing. It must be feeling sheer terror at this moment. The hopelessness it is suffering as it can do absolutely nothing against its cunning foe who is way too smart for it to—

Huh, the bucking stopped.

Eh? Why is everything upside down?

AHHH WHY IS A PIECE OF MY BACK MISSING?!

From my new vantage point half-splattered against the ground, I can see the Dire Rat retracting its paws from where it had performed the animal equivalent of a shoulder toss. I can see its fur matted in blood from the puncture wounds I gave it, along with the remnants of my lasso and a chitinous limb still loosely gripping the threads..

Wait, that's _another _one of my legs. I only have four left now! I'm sorry, leg! You did your job in hanging on, it was the rest of me that failed you!

To add insult to injury, I think I broke a tooth as well. My fangs are feeling somewhat funny and—and holy shit I can see them sticking out of my mouth now. They're huge! How did they get so big?! They weren't that large this morning!

Rolling right-side up, I gently tap one end of a fang with a remaining forelimb and bite back a hiss as I feel the sting of a potent toxin. Which makes absolutely zero sense, because my venom is not _that _toxic or corrosive, otherwise I could have been enjoying fly-shakes this whole week.

...mental note: do not think "fly" and "milkshakes" in the same sentence ever again. Eew.

Still, somehow, biting the Dire Rat… made my venom more potent? How?

What?

Existential crisis later! Murderize Dire Rat now! Running away didn't work. Cowspider, I mean, strangling it didn't work. Biting… didn't work before but it got results. And an upgrade? How does that even—nevermind! Bigger is better and now I've got bigger fangs!

…I just don't want to get eaten any more. Hmm. Well, Dire Rat is apparently hungry enough that it's going for the food right in front of him. Namely, my poor leg still attached to its back instead of me. In fact, it looks like it's having trouble getting it off because…

of…

Heyyy~

When in doubt, throw more threads at the problem! Sticky threads! Sticky threads! STIIIIICKY THREAAAAADS.

…

Okay, I can't believe that worked. Good job, sticky threads! You will be my new best friend; I'll even forgive you for horribly failing Operation: Parachute!

Okay, so… Dire Rat is now slightly tangled up, but it's still moving. Let's… not approach it from the front, don't get eaten… okay. So far, so good, and nowww

Not-sticky threads! I knew Plan: Cowspider wasn't a complete waste! A bit more difficult with only four limbs, but nothing I can't manage. Now then, you stupid Dire Rat, I have you completely at my mercy!

Take thi—you know what, I'm tired I don't have time to think of a new attack name.

NOM.

That squeak was the saddest squeak I've ever heard in the history of squeaks. I almost feel sorry for you, but… you're still squeaking, which means clearly I need more practice.

NOM NOM NOM NOM NOM.

That's… quite a lot of blood. I think I'm going to be sick to my stomach.

Wait, no that's not disgust.

…

…

Damn you, Dire Rat! It's your fault I didn't get to make good progress today! Become my food!

**NOM**.


	4. Spider 3

**Spider 3**

Today I woke up after a very restful sleep only to find that the sanctity of my Home has been violated. Violated!

I am a young maiden in Brockton Bay! I am in fear for my life! For more than my life! If I weren't a—

Oh right. I'm a spider.

Uhm… disregard everything I just said.

Nervously, I poke the intruder only to find it is a very, very dead corpse. Eew.

It appears to be a rather pale insect of some kind, except most insects I know don't have only four legs and I can't imagine one would willingly wander into a spider's web only to promptly keel over and… hmm.

I gently reach out and prod the corpse once again, then flip it over with a flick of my forelimbs. There is a ragged hole in the carapace, right where the thorax would meet the abdomen, and the insides…

The insides are hollow.

Wait.

Waitwaitwait.

Think back, think back… what can I remember? Okay, I beat up the Dire Rat, who is not looking so very dire now that the adrenaline rush is over. Or maybe it just looks smaller when it's been stripped down to a pile of fur and bones.

…eew. Remind me not to eat in the same place I sleep. At least things that I can't simply crunch down and ingest whole.

Okay, so I… ate the rat, built a Home, got tired, went to sleep. I did not pass Go, did not go out to get drunk, did not invite friends over to have a party. So I did not have relations with the corpse of another spider. That… that would just be weird, right?

Oh God, I'm a female spider! What if my female spider instincts took over while I was asleep and I—wait, no that's a praying mantis. I think? Didn't that one documentary also say that—_nopenotthinkingaboutit._ I'm a good spider. I wouldn't do anything like that until I'm an adult—_arrrrgh I'mthinkingaboutit._

Hang on, back up. Wait just one second. Four legs?

I inspect the corpse one more time and recount. Yep, just four legs. I've never heard of a spider that only had four leeeeeeeee—

Ohhh that's me! That's Old Me! Well, not Old Old Me because Old Old me is… anyhow! Limb check! One, two, threefourfivesixseven—

I have all my legs back! I'm cured! I have—wait, I only counted up to seven. I'm missing a limb! No way! After all that I only _partially _heal?!

...Wait, there's still the one I was using to count with. Now I feel dumb.

Still, I'm completely healed after losing half my legs and considerable damage to my back. That's great. That's awesome. Now I'm back to normal!

ᵖᵒʷᵉʳˢ ᵃʳᵉ Being a spider is bullshit.

Wait, no. Bad me. Not normal. Still a spider. Gotta remember that 'spider' is not a normal state of affairs.

So, what is my new not-normal? Well, I'm a little bit larger than old me. Emphasis on _little bit_, because I'm still pretty tiny, but there is a noticeable difference between the length of my limbs. I can't compare my body with old me because I don't have a mirror, but looking at my ᶜᵒʳᵖˢᵉ shed skin I look like a very weird jumping spider. Relatively large body compared to my legs.

…Wait, jumping spider? I wonder if that means I can jump. Did I ever—I can't believe I never tried to jump. ONE WHOLE WEEK as a spider and I never tried to jump! What is wrong with me?! Well this won't stand. I'll show me! Have at thee—

Ow.

G-good news, Home has a very sturdy roof. Way to go me… ow.

Okay, I can jump. At least that high. Okay, moving on. L-let's just… greet the new day. HELLO WORLD!

**_"SQUEAK"_**

Or let's run back into my Home and hide until… waitwaitwait. Think back, just a little bit more.

After wandering into a Dire Rat and killing said beast, did I even _move _from the battlefield before I built myself a Home?

I don't think I did. Hang on one second.

**_"SQUEAK"_**

Yep. That looks like Mrs. Dire Rat. And I'm standing right over the corpse of her husband.

No way… my luck can't be this bad, can it?

**/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\**

Okay, that was a thing.

Sticky threads: 2, Dire Rats: zilch. In fact, you are beneath me! You don't deserve the title of 'Dire' anymore, you are normal rats!

…that have almost killed me. Twice.

…

You know, Dire Rat sounds better for a story anyhow.

Limb check: onetwothreeforfivesixsev—eight! Let's not forget you this time! Okay, still in one piece. Check. Fangs remain unchip—ow! Check.

Well, another dead rat but I don't feel any different from before. I bit Mrs. Dire Rat plenty of times but my fangs didn't get any larger, that would have been nice. Oh well. Time to start the day!

...it seems like a waste of a good food source, though. Hmmmmmm…

You know what, I'm not feeling like flies today, so here's what I'm going to do. Thread telekinesis! Alright, food source is securely wrapped. Now, let's get it out of this alleyway. Heave ho!

Thread telekinesis!

…Thread telekinesis!

…thread telekinesis?

Fine, that would have been too easy anyhow. So what if it would have been nice to just float a heavy bundle up the side of a building using magical thread-controlling bullshit? Who needs things to come easily? Not me! Hahahaaaah… _mrrrrrghhh…_

Well, I told myself I needed to stop skipping leg day anyhow. Now how do I go about this…

Well, when in doubt, use more threads. Let's see if I can make big net or something.

Haha, of course I can, I'm a spider. All I need to do is make a quick web but horizontally. A few non-sticky threads so it doesn't stick to the ground… a bit of…

_Hrrgh_… rolling this… over… the—y'know what, this is already wrapped up. I can just attach a line and used it as a strap. C'mon me, work smarter, not harder.

...okay, Mrs. Dire Rat needs to lose some weight. C'mon me, work harder. At least all of that practice climbing buildings is paying off, I think I've got a pretty decent grip for once. Despite the weight of carrying something several magnitudes heavier than I am, this actually isn't so bad either.

Just one step forward. That should be my new motto. One step forward… with eight different legs. Yeah, I'm a spider. So what? It's still a good motto.

Hahah! This is easy! This is… manageable! This is… rrrgh… okay a small break might be in order.

Yeah that sounds good. It's just the work of a few moments to web my lunch to the wall and I am free to enjoy the sunrise. It'd probably be better if it was a sunrise over the bay, but I'll take one inching over the city skyline in a pinch.

Yeah, this is relaxing. Sun in my face, wind in my—wait, wind? WIIIND! NOT AGAAAAIN!

Oh come on! I can manage to keep my grip in the face of extreme load-lifting but a gust of wind is _still _my arch-nemesis? What the fuck, spider legs?!

At least it's not a very long drop, the wind also seems to have blown me to the side and into a balcony. Huh, I didn't even realise I was climbing an apartment complex.

Pretty soft landing too; didn't feel like I hit con… crete… uh oh.

I'm sorry random human! I didn't mean to land on your hand! Uhh, that's a very nice… bonsai plant that you're watering? _Pleasedon'tsquishme._

Oh god, I've got eight eyes too don't think I don't see that other hand being raised! I am a jumping spider… type… thing. Take this!

Parkour!

Haha! Taste defeat as I outmanuever your pitiful attempts to _ohGodthat'saVERYfastreactiontime_. Aah!

Grappling-hook thread! Phew, no one-handed squishing of me either! I didn't survive a Dire Rat to die to your girlfriend!

GRAPPLING THREAD! How fast can you be?! Are you some kind of ninja?!

…uh oh. The watering can is going down. He's getting serious.

Parkour! Oh god he's _jumping _at me! He really wants me dead! I'm sorry!

Grappling threads! I'm sorry!

Grappling threads! _Why aren't you accepting my apology?!_

Park—HOLY SHIT THERE'S TWO OF THEM?! No fucking way!

What in the everloving FUCK?!

Grappling threads! I am getting out of here—he's chasing me off the balcony?! Is this man suicidal?!

Holy shit. I think that's Oni Lee.

No way.

…I think he _is _suicidal. He can afford to be! Gotta run away! Gottarunaway! Gotta—

Ahh not the face! Well, not my face, that would have really hurt if he got my face. But no! He _blocked my escape with his own face!_ Who even does that?!

Goodbye, cruel world. Here lies a spider who did her best to… to… what have I even done except wander the city blindly?!

I've done nothing with my short, tiny life! Well that changes now! I'm going to do my part to leave Brockton Bay better than I first saw it! And it may be a small legacy, but I'm not going out without leaving my mark in this world!

And if that mark has to be an annoying spider bite that will irritate you for days, then so be it! Take this, Oni Lee!

**NOM.**

.

.

.

_Slap._


	5. Spider 4

**Spider 4**

It feels like a lifetime ago, but I have memories of being a fairly happy, excitable child. I was always eager to jump in and make a new friend, to find the adventure in a new situation, to share that with anyone who was near me. To seek out new life (an ant hill!) and make up new civilisations (I wonder if there's such a thing as an Ant Princess to go with their Queen?). To boldly go where few kids have gone before (Hey Emma, do you think if we dug deep enough we could find the Ant Princess—hey where are you going?!).

But recently I've found that there are times when such a mindset is not appropriate. There are times when one needs to calm down. To take a step back and take a moment to review the way your life has been going up until now and what direction it appears to be going. Introspection has never been something I would consider to be one of my innate strengths. It was something more like an acquired skill developed due to circumstance.

Circumstances such as finding that some examples of life consist of betraying betrayers who betray. To find that not all civilisations look out for each other and mindlessly follow the most popular clique in the scho—in life. To find that no matter where you go, somebody else already knows where you are.

Or sometimes you find that when you take a step back, you _don't _recall how you got where you ended up. To see that your life has _not _gone the way you planned. Where you have _no_ _clue _of where to go from here.

Why am I in the air? Why am I dead? _How do I get down?!_

Wait, dead? I looked at the macabre scene before me.

SQUISHED! I just saw myself getting _squished!_

…_HOW _can I see myself getting squished?!

It was clear as day. Even though I had eight eyes, they were not all created equal. Two of my forward facing eyes were much larger than the rest and perfectly positioned for binocular vision and maximum depth perception. As such, I had a spider-eyed view of Oni Lee giving himself the bitch-slap of a lifetime.

Time seemed to slow down. I saw the man's face, perfectly blank yet somehow still expressing supreme disgust as he pulled his hand away and stared into his palm at the results. He made no further moves even as he plummeted several stories to his death, taking my squished, goopy corpse with him. Well, no moves with his body. Even as he fell, I could see his eyes flickering around madly as if seeking me out, but fortunately I was either small enough or far away enough that he could not locate me.

Hopefully.

…

And why am I falling too?!

It was almost reflex, once I realised I had nothing beneath my feet and nothing nearby. I began extruding threads, thin gossamer strands that barely had any substance at all. Sheer tensile strength kept them together as the air rushed past my falling body and began to catch against nothing. For a brief moment, my fall was arrested and I began to slow down from spiderling terminal velocity.

PARACHUTE THREADS!

…Before my panicking mind overrode thousands of years of spider-instinct to spin much heavier threads in an attempt to weave themselves into a classic umbrella-shaped fabric. These threads had a much poorer surface-to-weight ratio and were not able to catch the air nearly well enough to support their weight.

Back to spiderling terminal velocity. Fuck you, Operation: Parachute. Like I said last time, I'll never trust you again.

On the bright side, I had a front-row seat as my killer hit the ground so hard a cloud of dust rose from the impact site—

Oh, right. Oni Lee.

_Thump._

I hit the roof of the neighboring building at a rate of meters per second—which really was much more annoying than painful given my size—and rolled to a stop. I felt spent, deciding to simply lie there and enjoy the sun as I pondered _what the hell had just happened._

Not the falling part, that was fairly obvious. More like the fact that I had just survived being squished!

Actually, no, that I had _seen _myself being squished.

Think back… think back. I saw myself being squished. Before that, I was being squished and crying to the heavens about the unfairness of it all. Before that, I was inflicting _justice _upon one of Brockton Bay's most notorious villains. Before that, I was fleeing for my life from said notorious vill—waitasecond.

Back up.

I mean, go forward.

I mean… whatever.

I had decided to inflict as much grievous bodily harm upon Oni Lee as I could as one final _fuck_ _you _before I died. Given that I'm a tiny spider, all I could do was give him an annoying spider bite that—at best—he would either be hopelessly allergic to and instantly die, or—at worst—annoy him for several days as an itch against his face.

Maybe his mask would irritate it even more. That would be nice.

The next thing I knew, I was having an out-of-body experience, like the heavens had heard my plea—for once—and pulled me from my fate.

…or, somehow, I had done the impossible and learned how to teleport. And not just teleport, but leave behind a clone that was destroyed in my place.

I've said before, I didn't consider myself to be a cape geek in my former life, but certain things about Brockton Bay's cape population were widely known just because they were so active. Things like the Empire Eighty-Eight's Kaiser having his body made of swords, the Protectorate's Miss Militia having _all _the guns, and the Azn Bad Boys' Lung having… a very weird name for being able to turn into a flaming dragon. I mean, shouldn't he have named himself "Wing" or "Scales" or something? If I was a flaming dragon I would have definitely chosen a much more interesting body part to call myself. Or… maybe not even a body part. I mean, even the ABB sympathisers at school were embarrassed about their own leader's name, judging by how mad they got whenever somebody brought it up. Especially the Chinese ones, for some reason.

Aanyhow, Oni Lee was definitely known for being able to combine teleporting and very persistent after-images. The leftovers were capable of several seconds of movement before they faded away, such as using whatever weapons they had on hand for one, brief attack. He often used them with bombs. And knives. Bombs for blowing themselves up, knives just for extra stabbiness. He was also known for rarely speaking, unlike many of the other villains who would dive straight into a monologue at the drop of a hat.

The last time my body went through unknown and scary changes was after I'd bitten a Dire Rat. Somehow that change was enough to make the next battle against a similar opponent much easier. My bites were much more destructive and Mrs. Dire Rat seemed to succumb to my venom rather quickly than her husband did. Either she was much weaker than he was… or something, somehow, made my combat effectiveness go up.

Having bitten Oni Lee, would I get similar improvements against him? I rolled to my feet and glanced across the rooftop, noting the small structure with a door that probably gave access to the stairwell into the building, then turning until I could view the apartment I had just fled from.

Just in time to catch a brief flicker as Oni Lee teleported back to his balcony. He bent over for a few moments behind the railing, presumably to clean up whatever mess he'd inadvertently made of his balcony garden, before straightening up and swiveling his head to… look… right… at… oh shit.

He couldn't see me, right? I was a tiny spider. Very tiny. Lalala, if I can't see you, you can't see me!

I instinctively backed up as quickly as I could; so fast, in fact, that I could see the after-image I left standing at the edge of the roof.

And then… wait my after-image is still there.

No way!

Hang on, hang on… lemme just sneak up on… yep it's still there. Aaaand it's not moving. Oh god, I think it's dead. Or was it ever alive to begin with. Am I really me? Existential crisis!

Hmm, y'know how they say if two clones meet, they will want to kill each other? I don't really know if that applies but I am really curious to see what happens if—no, I shouldn't do that. That wouldn't be right. I don't want to be that kind of person.

But then again I'm a spider, not a person…

Oops. Oh _no_. My mysterious doppelganger has slipped and fallen off the edge of the roof! It must have been the wind. How unfortunate! Darn that wind. So… windy. Grrr.

Hmm. I really am tiny… I can't even tell where I hit the ground from up here.

…Okay onto more important things, such as the fact that biting things gives me powers! That's awesome! That's amazing! Good job, me!

Well, maybe if I bite somebody else that has powers. But that makes zero sense. Did I find the one rat-cape in the city and nom him to death?

Further testing is required. BLINK!

I look down from the top of the roof-access hatch at my old body. So, yeah. That's a thing. It's somewhat unnerving to see your own lifeless corpse. Although maybe it's just the knowledge you're seeing something like your own corpse in the first place. The last time I recall seeing _that _was after my first combat with the Dire Rat and I molted/regenerated or something overnight. 0/10, would not recommend. But how does this relate?

I remember reading somewhere that rats were often considered to be virulent disease carriers. Much of the blame for the Black Plague was put at their filthy, scrabbling feet. I'm pretty sure most research has proven that it had less to do with a rodent's innate disease-ridden body and more the sheer squalor most of Europe was living in at the time, but it's still a knee-jerk reaction when confronted by a rat.

Could the _concept _of something affect what I can take from a victi—from an opponent? It might be why Mrs. Dire Rat didn't give me anything new, since I already obtained it from Mr. Dire Rat. And now I got something similar-but-not-quite from Mr. ABB Flunky over there.

I wonder if I can find more capes and nom them, will I get more powers? Or do they swap out?

Super Fighting Spider! MegaMe!

Hmm…

BLINK!

Blink, or you're dead! Hee hee, this is rather fun.

You know, seeing multiple me's is kinda nifty. I've never had a mirror so I can see all of me now. And not all hole-y like I was before. Eew.

Jumping spider seemed kinda right. But something really is weird about my mouth. It looks nothing like I've seen from other spiders or bugs.

_Aahh…_ okay, hold it…

BLINK!

Yeah, I've got jaws or something and while I don't quite have _teeth_, my mouth itself is kinda spiky. I can see my fangs while I'm in that pose, they don't look nearly as large as they feel.

My eyes are really, really big, now that I'm paying close attention to them. I wonder if it's creepy or cute. I mean, spiders are kinda creepy, right? But most people think disproportionately large eyes are… cute? Maybe? Isn't that how cartoons work? There's a few markings I can't quite make out. Even if I'm equivalent size, my own head has a pretty small surface area and my skin is really, really pale. Almost white.

Still, I don't think the E88 would accept me for what I am. Those hypocrites.

Turn around, me!

Oh wait, it can't.

BLINK!

Yes yes, maybe I'm lazy, but if you've got it, flaunt it! And wow look at that behind! I doooooo.

Okay, now I'm feeling stupid. Anyhoo, not too many markings on my abdomen, or at least none that I can see from here. One of these days maybe I should get a paint job.

Ooh, with _racing_ _stripes_. That'd be neat. I can go fifty-percent faster!

No, wait, that's if I paint myself red.

Bad me, stop thinking about stupid things.

BLINK!

Hmm, now that I think about it, I'm wondering if I can do what Oni Lee does and give my after-image an order.

BLINK!

Aaand you're not doing anything. Bad me. Bad clone. Whatever. You must be punished!

BLINK!

Ooh… and that… that is _really _creepy. I did not need to see me NOMing on me. That… okay stop. Please stop. STOOOP. _OhGodit'snotstopping_. That's…

Eew.

Okay I just have to plan an action before I actually blink out. Good to know. Let's see how many I can do! Okay, race to the edge, readysetgo!

BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!Blinkblinkblinkblinkblinkblinkblinkʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋ…

…

...Hoo boy, it's a good thing I'm not arachnophobic or that… that would be really scary to watch. That's a lot of spiders. Scuttling. Crawling. Yikes.

_Grrrggrrrggrrrrhh_.

Ehh… now I'm hungry. Maybe I shouldn't have been doing so much of that. Oh right! I left my lunch on the other building! Now, where is it… ahah! Food spotted! Be mine!

PARKOUR!

And now for hax power combinations, BLINK!

I appear on the wall right next to the webbed up remains of Mrs. Dire Rat. Good aim, me! And let me just get a good grip on her carrying threads… hmm I wonder how far the roof is from here. It doesn't appear to be too far of a distance.

BLINK!

Hahah! No more needing to carry! Now I have two copies of food too! I am a _genius!_ Oh wait, the old food copy just disintegrated. Well, that's no fun. But my old body is still there.

That's weird.

Goddamnit, me. I shouldn't have let myself get too excited.

You moron.

…

At least I have rat.

_FWOOM_

Eh? What's that sound?

_RUMBLE_

Aah! What's that shaking?!

BLINK!

I head over to the edge of the roof and see…

The other building is on fire.

A cape fight? Right there? Right now? Are they stupid? Oni Lee lives right next door!

Speaking of Oni Lee, I can see him leaning over his balcony, watching the building. He looks… really upset. I mean, it's hard to tell because he's _Oni_ _Lee_but from the rest of his posture he definitely looks stressed out. Those other capes attacking the building won't know what's coming for them.

Even as I watch, he reaches across his chest and suddenly I see him appear on the other building's roof in a brief flicker of pseudo-motion, arm raised and a grenade in hand. He throws it down and another explosion of fire flares up.

Wait, why is Oni Lee firebombing his own neighbors? I turn around and notice a satellite antenna nearby. It should give me a better angle to view from.

BLINK!

Oh...

Oh.

That's uh… that's the roof where I was practicing. I can even see the last sets of old me's that I made still running their impromptu race.

_FWOOM_

Well, not anymore, given that Oni Lee just firebombed them. Again.

Um…

Oops?


	6. Spider 5

**Spider 5**

I'm hungry.

Also sleepy, since the earlier excitement really stressed me out and I deserve a good nap, but I'm mostly hungry.

Which is perfectly fine because I've got a sack of meat nearly twelve times my length and I'm in the mood for a bit of introspection.

You see, in life, one can often find a certain symmetry to most situations.

For someone to be the best, there must also be someone who is the worst. For those who are strong, there must also be those who are weak. For every bully, there is a victim. For someone to be saved, there must also be someone in danger.

For every villain, there is a hero.

Even if they hadn't managed to uproot the local gangs, when a local villain engages in seemingly random property destruction, the local heroes have no choice but to respond. Their response may be rather half-hearted, but they have to at least _appear _to be putting forth the effort.

In this case, the quickest responder to Oni Lee setting fire to… everything… would also be one of the most useless in actually resolving the situation. Velocity of the Protectorate was—bar none—the fastest man in Brockton Bay. He could cross the city from one end to the other in minutes. His reaction time was said to be nearly instantaneous. He could run through a hail of bullets and have a pretty decent chance of surviving. He was the local heroes' most invaluable scout.

But that was pretty much _all _he could do. He didn't leave sonic booms in his wake that could snuff out the flames as he passed. He couldn't put up a flurry of attacks to take down Oni Lee before the teleporter could respond. Hell, he couldn't even clothesline him with his initial charge for an instant takedown. While some might think he was intentionally holding back out of heroic resolve, the general consensus was that his power was simply "speed."

He _could _keep Oni Lee busy, assuming the ABB cape wasn't of mind to simply ignore him and teleport away, as was apparently the case.

What this meant for me was that I got lunch and a free show as the two blinked and blurred back and forth across the street. No further explosions lit up, much to my annoyance. While I didn't exactly want to be blown up either, it would have made for a much more interesting sight.

Oni Lee was apparently content to try and stab the speedster, but Velocity was always able to react in time to avoid the attack, then _ZOOM _over to where Oni Lee had teleported out to. Of course by then the villain had already teleported out, leaving his after-images to try to get with the stabby once again and the whole thing would repeat over and over.

Blink stab.

Zoom zoom.

I'd have been tempted to test my theory out that I could somehow NOM Velocity's power for myself but really, just _watching _them made me feel even more tired. Besides, accidentally taking a power from a villain was one thing (and, let's be honest, probably an accident that was going to repeat itself quite often). But actively hunting down a hero? A protector of the city? I'll content myself with crunching down on Mrs. Food here.

Crunch crunch.

Nom nom.

Say, where am I putting this anyhow? I've mentioned before but this thing is magnitudes larger than I am, plus I'm eating it relatively raw (_eew, by the way_). I mean, don't get me wrong, I'm a growing spider. But clearly what I eat doesn't directly translate to the mass I gain, or else Mr. Food from yesterday would have ballooned me up to bird spider levels.

Mm… bird. I wonder what flight is like?

Blink stab.

Zoom zoom.

Do these guys do _anything_ else? I mean, this is the first time I've seen two capes going at it and right now it feels a bit… underwhelming. Maybe I'm too biased considering I just survived a firebombing. I mean, technically I wasn't the one being bombed, but a lot of me's died.

Or were they already dead? I think they were dead, otherwise they would have at least said "Hi!" back to me.

Or were they still alive but unable to react without being given the order to do so? Was there a mind behind those _many _cold, dead eyes screaming at me to let them live, to be free? And I simply left them there to do the next interesting thing with a new set of _I have no mouth and must scream?!_

Oh God, did I indirectly become a mass murderer due to negligence?! What have I done?!

…okay this introspection thing is really stressing me out. Back to eating. But not stress-eating, because that's just an unhealthy set of behaviours. Normal, healthy, growing eating.

Crunch crunch.

Nom nom.

But still, Oni Lee could at least use… regular grenades instead of just knives? I've heard he does that a lot in other fights. Maybe he just doesn't think they'd be useful against Velocity? I mean, what if he faked out with a knife but _surprise!_ He's really just palming an already armed pineapple surprise and _BOOM _Velocity goes into a bunch of pieces.

"Holy shit, that's disgusting."

I know, right? Well, maybe Velocity would still react in time anyhow, maybe Oni Lee's tried that in the past so it didn't take and now he—wait what?

There's a sudden blur of motion, a rush of air, and suddenly my lunch is gone. _My lunch is gone!_ I can only stare helplessly as I watch Mrs. Food cartwheeling through the air over the street, before there is another flicker of motion and suddenly she's rocketing off towards the horizon.

I turn back the other way to find a large combat boot settling back to the ground. Looking up, I trace that boot to a pair of dark-coloured leggings that disappear into a heavy cloak, which in turn drapes over a pair of outstretched arms.

"Fucking birds, they never finish their food before they let themselves get scared off by the most non-interactive capes this side of the seaboard," a bitter-sounding voice drawls as the figure thrusts one arm beneath the cloak and reemerges holding a thick bar of metal.

She ignores me—or maybe she never noticed me in the first place—in favour of the ongoing fight across the street and slams the bar against a larger, thicker piece of—oh that's a crossbow—and pulls back on the slide. Raising both arms, which I now see are each armed with their own weapon, she lets fly with both bolts in the general direction of the fight, but doesn't appear to affect it at all.

Blink stab.

Zoom zoom.

Plink plink.

I note this action dispassionately with one part of my mind. You can tell how calm I am because if I am not then I might make a mistake. I might do something reckless. I might _CRYHAVOCANDLETSLIPTHESPIDERSOFWAR!_

You kicked my food and shot it halfway across the city! You nearly stepped on me! You lost me my food! You're launching a sneak attack! You threw away my food! I think I recognise you and you're supposed to be a hero! You're supposed to be on _my _side!

_I WAS EATING THAT!_

With a scream that would terrify anyone with good common sense (and if I could… yknow, scream in the first place…) I launch myself at this new food-wrecking intruder.

Forget feeling bad before! Hero or not, become my prey!


	7. Foreman 2

**Foreman 2**

Denial is a funny thing. It only works if nothing of absolute importance has ever happened to you. Its success also depends on how interesting the incident is to the people around you.

If you stub your toe within full view and shouting range of a yard full of hardened construction workers, you might get the odd look or two but you can proceed to walk it off without comment.

_Argh my foot? No, no… that was… no, see? Really, it's fine. Carry on, fellas._

If you accidentally drunk dial some random girl you met in a bar, even if you don't remember it, circumstances will never let you down.

_Holy shit, Hebert, you actually called that feminazi?_

_H-hey, she actually wasn't that bad. At least she wasn't glaring at me like her friends were._

_Wow, call us up for the wedding, will ya?_

_It's really nothi—_

_I'm marking my calendar!_

Then there's the big stuff. The stuff nobody will ever let you ignore, no matter how much you want to. Granted, it doesn't have to be focused around you, personally, but it still would be nice to let go.

_I heard it was the size of a bus!_

_I heard it was Crawler who broke away from the S9 because he really wanted a good fight!_

_I heard there were hundreds of the things and the PRT was double-checking to make sure Ellisburg was still in isolation!_

I stared down at the drink in my hand. This was really nice tea.

Actually, it was completely horrible. Most of the water utilities were down, either outright destroyed or disabled until they'd been inspected by FEMA before they could be brought back online. So most of the camps were boiling every shipment of water they received before distribution. And if they were being boiled anyhow…

Well, some enterprising person had raided the nearby hotel for some hot water mixer packets, but unfortunately all of the chocolate had vanished quickly. What was left was the various—well, let's just say that I don't consider myself a snob of flavoured water, but at least I knew my tea. I'm not an absolute heathen.

Besides, the expert brewer in the house was Tay—you know, this really is nice tea.

_I heard it's been hiding in the city this whole time._

_What? Get out, there's no way we wouldn't have seen it before now._

_I'm serious, major villain material. None of the heroes will admit it, but it's been attacking a whole bunch of them in the last few months, especially New Wave!_

I'd woken up in the hospital, but it was nothing serious. Once I woke up they just treated me for some light exposure and then turned me loose. I'd found a sympathetic nurse who got me a list of patients—it was rather less trouble than I thought it'd be, once I told her who I was and what I did for a living. I was able to check in on some of the dockworkers who'd found their way here, some of their family, along with a few other people.

Most of them were even in pretty good shape. The ones that weren't, I'd learned long ago how to put that out of my mind.

_I bet you got that story from that camp down by the docks. I'm in contact with my cousin who's stuck over there and he told me that there's some random kid spouting the most ridiculous things to anyone in earshot._

_How dare you, I know the difference between a credible source and some random hearsay!_

_Uh huh… so where is this credible source of yours?_

_I… uh, PHO?_

_Holy shit, you have 'net access? I keep getting fucking 'Service Unavailable'!_

Nobody had asked me how I'd gotten there, which was fine with me. I'd just been wandering out on the streets during an endbringer attack and had nothing more than a few bumps and bruises to show for it. Never mind that hundreds of people were still missing and presumed trapped under countless tons of rubble from destroyed buildings and other infrastructure.

Never mind that I'd somehow been found on top of one of those piles of rubble. I'd just been washed onto it by the waves after it had collapsed, that was all.

I was lucky, who needed more explanation than that? It's not like some _thing _had just randomly decided to—

This was some pretty good tea.

_Well, it's down now but I got some news before it died. I heard that Blasto swung by town to talk to Coil and he accidentally left one of his things here and it's been living in the sewers. Growing._

_Why Coil?_

_Huh?_

_I mean why would Blasto talk to Coil? He's a big-shot name in Boston and Coil's barely a footnote here. Why wouldn't he talk to Kaiser or even Lung?_

_Well duh, Blasto isn't asian. And—look my source just told me Coil was involved, 'kay? The point is it's been amongst us this whole time! It could be anywhere!_

_Uh huh… Anyhow, I need to go look for work, why don't you talk to your 'source' and try to figure out something more realistic for tonight._

Hmm, there's an idea. I should get back to the office and see what was left of it. I'd already visited what used to be my home. What the water hadn't got into and destroyed, looters had. It was easily Top Three in the Depress-O-meter for this year.

Given the massive holes in the property it was, unfortunately, much less secure than even a tent city so I'd packed up what few sentimentals and valuables I couldn't live without and moved into the nearest refugee camp. Not to mention it had already developed cobwebs and I didn't need any _reminders_.

_It's not a story! It's all true! I don't have access to it right now but there were pictures of it on PHO crawling out from somewhere underground! It was downtown!_

_Mhmm… and there was no news about this… why?_

_It's a conspiracy, man! There are spiders amongst us!_

Aand… time to get to work.

The walk over to the Dockworkers' Association offices wasn't terribly difficult. Not much more than it would have been any other day, at least. Most of the cross-streets were littered with small piles of debris that were shoved out from the boulevards in line with the bay, but they weren't so numerous as to impede foot traffic.

Volunteers lined the various roads, not so much clearing the streets as shoving the piles away from the centres and more towards the sidewalks. Only a few had managed to be cleared enough to allow access of forklifts and heavier machinery which could aid the cleanup. I counted a few members of the Union already at work and we traded acknowledgements as I walked past.

My styrofoam cup of tea was cold as I finally navigated the last few obstacles that separated me from the last street before the office, but I paused as I did so. Standing in front of the doors was a tall figure clad in metals and ceramics that were probably once blue, but scraped down to grey layers along the sides and back. His back was towards me as he was staring at my door. Or rather, some small satchel next to it, if the poking with a literal ten-foot-pole was any indication.

I cleared my throat as I crossed the street. "Can I help you?" I offered. "I don't think we have normal business hours for the time being, but if the Protectorate has need of the DWA I'm sure we could come to sort of arrangement."

Armsmaster, his armour and halberd were too iconic for him to be anyone else, straightened up and turned around. He seemed to stare at me for a few moments before he grunted. "Mr. Herbert?"

"Close enough, but I get that a lot," I replied airily. I sipped at my drink. It was good tea, even cold. "Did you need something?"

"Do you know anything about this?" he asked without preamble, prodding the small lump of fabric tied to the wall next to the door.

Given that this was literally the first time I'd been back to the office since I'd been released from the hospital, the answer was a clear no. I didn't say so, instead lifting an eyebrow as I sipped at my cup once more. Even if he was just doing his job as a hero, I'd done my own as a negotiator far too long to let such blatant rudeness pass without notice.

So I didn't comment.

I just waited.

He seemed to draw back at my reticence, before he suddenly stilled for a few moments, then abruptly relaxed. "Mr. Her—Hebert," he said, his voice slightly shifting in tone. "My apologies for the lack of notice. I am Armsmaster, leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate."

I lifted my cup in acknowledgement. "Daniel Hebert, hiring manager for the Brockton Bay chapter of the Dockworkers' Association. What can I do for you?"

"This was left by your office." He once again poked at the bundle with the butt of his weapon. "It is constructed of a material the Protectorate has an interest in and I was about to open it to ascertain the contents."

I hummed noncommittally. "Given that you're not screaming at me to get back and take cover, I'll go ahead and assume it's not threatening," I said. "Go ahead, this is the first time I've heard of that and none of the other guys have let me know anything."

Without bothering to respond, the man spun his halberd in a brief arc, the head of the weapon just barely passing through the side and dumping its contents to the sidewalk. I finished crossing the street as he knelt to peruse the contents.

There was a small pile of clothes, some of which were cushioning a mason jar—the type that have those clamps to keep them air-tight—which was very useful as it kept the jar from breaking. It had been filled, or emptied, almost to the halfway point with a large amount of brown beans. The sides had a crude scrawl of paint along the sides, a child's scribbles of a house, a sun, a tree—even though we had no trees in our neighborhood—and the triple stick-figures of your typical nuclear family unit.

Armsmaster had barely given the pile of clothes and jar a look before he had turned back towards the satchel, muttering loudly enough that I could hear him dictating to verbal notes to himself.

"_Organic in composition. Seen this weave pattern before but not this tightly knit. Appears to match the silk samples obtained in previous encounters. Need to bring to the lab to confirm but chances are very high we are seeing more examples of its work. Curious to see that was used for this purpose to bring… ah, fabrics and an unknown container to this location. Should question the civilian for any information on_—ah, Mr. Hebert," he suddenly straightened and turned to face me.

"You are not under arrest, but I would like to bring you to our own base—our offices," he stumbled slightly, as if reminded that his shiny, converted oil rig the Protectorate used as a staging point was now in pieces across the shoreline. "At your own convenience, of course, though I recommend that it be sometime soon."

I stared silently at him for a few more moments before I glanced back down. The clothes, I had a sneaking suspicion, would have been those buried at the back of my dresser and the least likely to have been damaged by the elements. The jar had a scribble in yellow paint across it, just over the images.

"_Doddys Cafee_," it read.

I threw the styrofoam cup over my shoulder. Fuck it. I'd never liked tea in the first place.

"Do you happen to have a grinder at your place?" I asked.


	8. Spider 6

**Spider 6**

So here's a fun fact about spiders, which I'm sure you're all just dying to find out more about.

All spiders are venomous, I think I've mentioned that previously. I've heard it said that the answer to the question, "How venomous is a spider?" would be, "Yes." Almost all of them are designed to do the same thing as well: to take the insides of whatever their target prey is, liquify them, and slurp it down with a spider straw.

The reason, then, for why there's barely two or three dozen species that are considered threats to human life aren't because of the potency of their venom, but because nearly all the various thousands of species besides that handful have fangs far too small to puncture human skin.

I got lucky with Oni Lee, the fucker literally headbutted me and gave me access to some of the thinnest skin a person has.

ɴᴏᴍ

Combat boots are… slightly more troublesome to get through.

ɴᴏᴍ

So are something even as innocuous as outdoor leggings.

ᴀʜʜ ʜᴇᴇᴇᴇʟᴘ ᴍᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇ

And big heavy cloaks? Those are big… and heavy. 'Nuff said.

So uh… I'm not too proud to admit it, but I'm lost in there. I can't find my way out, much less find my way to my new arch-nemesis' skin.

Let that be a lesson to all you outdoors-people out there. Your hiking clothing is a menace to all of the local wildlife. This is why we need to swarm you.

Meanies.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

To make a long, boring story short, I spent most of the trip back in darkness, punctuated by moments of foggy clarity.

I'd apparently attempted to inflict justice upon one of the Wards, the Protectorate's junior division. I don't know why Shadow Stalker felt like being a food-depriving bitch, but I suppose that was the lesser problem once I realised that I was being pulled along for the ride to her next destination. Apparently while her power could transform anything she was wearing on herself into her shadow form, that did not apparently include me.

I think there was some sort of term for that, but I can't quite recall what it was off the top of my head. Still, I was apparently light enough that I was carried along by sheer inertia and the clouds of her alternate state were just tangible enough to propel me along whenever she used her abilities.

Which brings me to a problem I'm having right now…

"I wasn't implying _anything_. All I asked was how your patrol went!" an exasperated female—or very young male voice exclaimed.

Heavy cloaks are heavy. And still very hard to crawl out of when there's so many folds between you and freedom. Still, I made the effort. I don't want to be squished in here, after all—or worse, put through a wash cycle. Not that it's ever happened to me before, but it sounds really horrible.

"Fuck you, squirt, I don't have to answer to you," the owner of said cloak wittily replied, her voice and tone annoyingly familiar.

"Well fuck you too," sniped the first person. "I'm starting to see why they had to saddle you with a babysitter, if that's how mature you're going to be about this."

"You're half my age and less than half my size."

"And yet, still more respected than _you _are."

Whelp, no love lost between these two, whomever they be.

"Stalker," an aggrieved male voice drawled out. "I'm not gonna even _try _to get between you and Vista, but I do want to point out that we have a coat rack for a reason."

And thus we find the reason for my current predicament. Shadow Stalker is a complete slob and her heavy cloak is very heavily draped against the ground. C'mon me, don't get defeated by Gore-Tex!

But doth my ears deceive me? Vista? I must be in the Wards headquarters! Now I _really _need to get free. I redoubled my efforts to find any openings I could use in and squeeze my way out. Fortunately, I was tiny. I could make use of very small gaps. Unfortunately, I was tiny. This was a relatively large amount of ground to cover.

"You may be my 'team leader'"—wow, could I _hear _the quotation marks in that—"but you aren't my dad. What I do is none of your business."

I heard a mild sound of protest from the boy, but he didn't speak any further.

Vista, however, was not so cowed. "It may not be his specifically, but it becomes our business when you slack off and allow a civilian to come to harm in your zone of responsibility," she said. "What you did affects how the Wards are perceived, that's why they felt you needed closer supervision. Right, Aegis?"

"I'd rather not…"

"...I had _nothing _to do with that," Shadow Stalker interrupted with a growl.

Oof, sounded like someone dropped the ball~ Darn those heroes, can never count on them when you need one. Oh, oh! At last I see the light!

A breathy sound, probably a sigh. "I'm not saying you were responsible for what happened, which is why you're not being punished for it," Aegis replied. Hmm… so he was the leader of the Wards? Wow… way to mess up in front of your boss. "But you should have been able to prevent it. You chose to go to that slum of a school on your own, you could have transferred in with the rest of us. At best, we could have helped you cover your bases to prevent this. At worst… well, at least what happened wouldn't have been on our watch."

Ahah! Freedom! It's like the sky is new! Now time to make like a tree and—wait, there's only one school that comes to mind when people think 'slum.' _Suspicious… _

I turned towards the ongoing argument and saw a huge person—to me at least—sitting on her heels as she leaned her arms against the backrest of a sofa. She wore a green dress with a faux-metal breastplate along with a visor currently propped up on her forehead, revealing a studiously disinterested expression on her face which clashed with the clear interest she was showing in the argument before her.

"Gangbangers will be gangbangers," an even taller Shadow Stalker replied negligently. She still wore her full-faced mask and dark fatigues but there was no mistaking the anger in her posture as she stared down a giant hunk of teenaged maleness in a rust-red bodysuit. No gloves or mask in evidence. "When you have a school full of them, it's impossible to tell when some idiot weakling crosses them and gets shoved into a locker for her troubles when they snap. I can't keep an eye on all of the sheep."

Wait, what?

I need a better view. Oh look, a handy wall. One step forward. Seven more behind it!

"I'm not saying you could have done better, the place _is _pretty messed up." Aegis rubbed his fingers across the bridge of his nose, missing Shadow Stalker stiffening up at the implied lack of faith. From the way her heels began to click together happily, Vista didn't. "But I agree with Armsmaster when he says you could stand to refine your awareness, hence the joint patrols with someone like Velocity. Maybe if you'd been able to gauge the mood of the student body you could have rescued that Hebert girl before things got to that point."

Spider-Me, Spider-Me, doing whatever a Spider-Me—eh? What? I couldn't _turn _from my position against the wall, but I could try to direct my vision back the way I'd come. Eight corners of eyes gives fantastic peripheral vision.

"As if," Shadow Stalker scoffed, crossing her arms and cocking her hips just _so_.

If I'd had eyelids, I would have blinked, then narrowed them. I knew that voice. I'm _positive _I knew that posture. If my memory is anything to judge then she would say something along the lines of…

"Fucking girl should have learned her place."

What.

The.

Fuck.

With the mask in place I couldn't be certain. But that voice, that casual disdain, that stance that all but screamed, "I'm _better _than you and I fucking know it," combined with the implication that she went to school at _Winslow _of all places. It could only mean…

I shook my head and began ascending with purpose, making for a tiny vent I'd noticed in the ceiling.

Vista made a small sound of disbelief, drawing the attention of the two older Wards.

"What's your problem, squirt?"

"Just that I can't believe you're a hero," Vista snarked back. "One of these days you're gonna be more trouble than you're worth and see if we help you then."

Shadow Stalker made another rude sound and pulled her mask off to give the smaller girl the full force of her—

Wait, is that Sophia?

I'm in Wards headquarters, and I find—

—Sophia?!

…

**_Š̢̧̳̣̯͉͇̞͈͈̍͌̉̀͑́Ỏ̶̤͎̦̟̻̣͚̉̒̎̾P̢͚̪̫̳̆̾̈́͛̍̕͠͡͝H̴̛̼̦̖̜̿̇́̒̄̀̀̕͜ͅĮ̴̭̭̟̩̟̩̎͌̇̏̆̍̃̉͌͝A̵̦͔̩̘͙͙̖̬̖̽̉̋̈́̚͟ Ḟ̡̡̰̹̬̭̯̩̣̓̑̽̃͆̊̚͜͞U̠̗̮̮̯̩̮͔͂͋̍̅̀̅̔͢C̛̖̗͓͇̼̲͆͐̅̓͑͜͟͟͡K̴̗͓͕͇̯͖̙̣͖̪̓̏͐̿̐͞͞͞Ị̥̮̤̭͓̖̤͌͑͆̇͐̿͌͟͠N̸̨̛͉͉̮͐́̒̇̿́͋͢͠͡G̷̗͙̘͔̺̺̋̏͛̍̎ Ḩ̷͇̪̠̟̿̒̽̑̿̿͒̾̚ͅͅE̶̡̛̜̪̺̬̬̟̖̙̅́̔͋̈́̽S̵̞̘̜̦̯̫̓́͐̂͛̽̈̌͞S̠̩̥̣͇̿̆̇́͂̚̕ͅ?̸̛̪̯̞̣̠̩̮̀̂̅͗̃͂͊̈́͞!̦̦͚̜͉̿̔͊̔̓͞ͅ_**

…

"Bite me, squirt."

I felt a sudden chill, as if I had circled right past hot, fiery rage into crystal-clear _purpose_.

…

…Well, who am I to ignore such an invitation?

BLINK.

"Ow!"

"What? Oh geez, there's a spider on your face. Well, there _was_…"

"Eew, _gross_."

"Oi! There's more on your collar!"

"EEEEEE!"

"Vista, shut the fuck up! Fucking—I stepped in some roadkill during patrol. Right before the thing with Oni Lee. These fucking spiders must have made a nest in it. GAH! They're in my costume! Get them off!"

"We'll get them, just stay calm, head for the showers, and whatever you do don't—"

_Poof_

_"__EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"_

"Goddamnit, Stalker! Don't use your powers or they'll just fall—! Now they're _everywhere!_"

"Fucking _kill them _already!"

"Vista! Stay back—okay yeah, you're doing your thing. I don't suppose you could extend that field around me?"

_"__AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH!"_

"No? Okay then. I'll just uh… do we have like… a lot of paper we can get them to crawl onto? Shit. I could try to—ow, my hand! You know what, we could—gah! We don't even have a window or door that leads outside?! Who _designed _this place?!"

_"__BURN THE CARPET. BURN THE COAT. BURN EVERYTHING!"_

I managed to tag the two older Wards in the confusion, one of them several times… y'know, just to be certain. The third, unfortunately no matter how many times I tried jumping in, regardless of vector, I always ended up on the carpet surrounding the couch. Even directly blinking in didn't get results.

I picked my moment to skitter back through the air vents when the screaming summoned in a group of heavily armed—and armoured—troopers along with a worried-looking woman in a scarf. I recognised her as well and might have tried to push my luck, if not for the fact that once her eyes had settled onto the problem her immediate reaction was to raise a flamethrower and torch the nearby floor.

Yeah. _No way._

Nope nope nope.

What followed was the clamouring of fire alarms, suppressant systems, and a round of confused shouting that I couldn't be bothered to listen in on, instead choosing to scramble away and find somewhere more quiet.

After what _felt _like hours, but was probably only a few minutes, I slumped against a darkened corner of a disused ventilation shaft.

I was… tired. Physically and emotionally. I'd felt like I had burned through my reserves with Oni Lee and I'd barely gotten half a meal and almost no rest to speak of before I'd pulled that stunt with the Wards.

Emotionally, I don't know. Seeing Shadow Stalker—seeing _Sophia _really made me want to—_notthinkingaboutit._

You know, I just didn't want to deal with this.

So tired. So hungry.

I think… I think I have enough energy to spin up a Home. Not the most ideal of locations—I doubt I could rest easy, being in the same building as her. But at least I got some of my own, back. Mostly.

And if what I think happened, did happen, then I might have even gotten some new toys out of the deal!

…

Well, two out of three isn't bad.


	9. Spider 7

**Spider 7**

I'm somehow tired even though I got a full night's sleep, I feel cramped even though I'm pretty sure there was plenty of room in this duct before I crawled into it, and I'm seeing an annoying buzzing in my head that tastes _**Purple**_.

Yeah I don't get that last one either.

It's times like this it really doesn't pay to get out of bed for the day.

I had another brief moment of panic when I saw my Home had been invaded once more, but I quickly relaxed as I discovered that I had just molted once again. The size difference was somewhat startling, however. One of my new legs was at least twice the size of my old ones… I wonder how that even worked. How did I fit in there?

It's also a pretty startling growth, considering I'd barely grown at all that first week and the first time I can even remember molting was… yesterday morning.

Wow, that was a pretty eventful day.

Somehow I don't think today will be much better, which really sucks. Because I feel like I need to take the time to relax and ponder my situation.

But first I gotta deal with that _annoying_—gah! I don't even know what to call it.

Hey, purple thing! I'm trying to ignore you but you keep getting _louder _somehow! Grrrr… go away!

Oh. It went away.

…

Well that's goo—_OHWHATISTHISPAINMOTHERFU—_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Now I feel _really _tired. It feels like every nerve (do spiders even have nerves? I guess they must, cuz I feel them and they _burn_) is on fire. Even worse, that buzzing didn't go away, although it's much quieter somehow and this time it only tastes _**Yellow**_.

Oh, and there's a Dire Rat Jr. gnawing on one of my legs.

Strange… I can feel it doing so (_it feels tingly!_) but there's no pain associated with it.

Ugh, go away Dire Rat Junior, I don't want to deal with you…

AAH! Don't _bite it off!_ That's my leg! Why do I keep losing my legs?! I have spares but still!

… and now the buzzing tastes _**Red**_. That can't be good. Um… let's… _not_ poke you away just yet.

I roll the rest of me back to my (_seven, grrr_) feet and give my best spider-glare to Dire Rat Junior, who is still larger than me but not by as much as Mister or Missus. He pays no attention to me, instead choosing to nibble on my leg. He looks hungry. That's okay, because that just makes this much _simpler_.

_NOM._

Oh, so _now_ you notice me, huh? Too bad, so sad, I _mad!_

I use my my two front limbs to slam Dire Rat Jr.'s head to floor and pin him down as I chew on the back of his neck. Normally I'd string him up and let the venom do its work, but I'm not feeling particularly nice. As I do so, I hear the buzzing fade back from red to an angry _**Orange**_, though it's still not the yellow it was when I woke up.

It's barely even a minute before Dire Rat Jr. has completely stopped moving and my biting has absentmindedly turned into crunching as I dig my way into his back.

Crunch crunch.

Nom nom.

Hmm… okay… let's… try this again. Go away orange buzzing! …and _pleasedon'thurtpleasedon'thurt—OOOOWMOTHEROFSPIDERS!_

It's… painful, but not nearly as bad as purple, although I'm not sure that was much better. Purple seemed to have knocked me straight out, while orange has left an imprint of sharp pain followed by a dull throbbing sensation where my leg should be. Although maybe that's just because I _have no leg_ where it's supposed to be.

Crunch crunch.

Nom nom.

And I'm eating pests.

Again.

I slump against my breakfast.

I wanna go home.

_I wanna go home._

Ever since I first woke up from… from _there_, I've been trying to make my way home. Just get home and be done with all of… this.

Except I'm _tiny_. And _slow_. Even after a week of traveling I was still nowhere near the suburbs where I remember growing up. I was still stuck in streets and multi-storied apartments and other buildings. Now I'm _here _and… I don't even know where I am.

This sucks.

This situation _really _sucks. Is this really my life?

Crunch crunch.

Nom nom.

No way.

I'm gonna get home. Like, _HOME-home_, and not just a Home I've spun up. I'm gonna find my dad, and I'm gonna get my life back.

Somehow.

I can do it. Go me.

One step at a time.

I spin out a few lengths of non-sticky threads and wind up the rest of my meal, leaving a decently-sized opening. Kind of like a half-eaten spider-burrito. I yank on the leading threads to swing him up and over my back, but of course that wouldn't work. He's so much bigger than I am.

I reposition to get several limbs beneath the body and flex a bit, adjusting my grip as it were. I heave, but the rat sack remains stubbornly in place before a moment's focus lets me haul across my back with a (mental) grunt of exertion.

Hmm… Dire Rat Jr. is much lighter than a fully grown one. That would never have worked before. I hope he's still meaty.

Oh well.

Let's have a working lunch later. Meal on the go. So long air-shaft-Home!

…where's the exit?

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

I nom'd two capes yesterday. Shadow Stalker and Aegis. I was hoping I'd get powers from them like I did from Oni Lee, but if I did I can't figure out what they are.

I've already tried to poof like Stalker does, but that didn't seem to work. I clearly don't have Aegis' ability to take hits, or I'd still have a full set of legs.

Also, I can't fly. That's the real tragedy here.

A flying spider would be really cool.

I mean, it'd probably terrify me if I were Old-Me, but since I'm not, I'd really like to see a flying spider right about now.

Especially now, since it looks like somebody sort of went overkill on their pest control.

I glance down the four-way intersection of the ventilation shaft, noticing the one across from me seems to have a small pile of dead insects for no discernible reason. My dark vision isn't the best, but it's enough to see that there is a relatively clear area beyond the pile, made up of some sort of reflective material that stood out from the rest of the metal making up the shaft. Light emerges from a hole in the exact centre of this strip, casting a bright rectangle broken up by fuzzy lines against the ceiling. An air vent leading to some room below. Beyond that lies another set of insectoid bodies scattered further down.

I wondered how the corpses were all piled up with such neat boundary lines.

Gas?

Bug spray?

I don't smell anything.

Tiny tinker-made defense turrets? This was a building where the Wards were based after all.

I gingerly reach forward and tip a dead fly off the top and into the clear area.

Nothing happens to the bug.

Except a loud shriek of noise hits _me _while buzzing erupts brightly and fills my head with the taste of _**Mahogany**_.

Like, what the fuck.

No, I'm not poking you again. I've learned my lesson. No way, I'm out. That door is not an exit.

I turn and go down the adjacent path instead, the one not strewn with dead bugs and does not feed the buzzing in my head.

While I walk, I'm constantly _flexing _my thoughts in the hopes of triggering whatever powers I might have gotten from the two Wards.

Poof.

Puff.

Smoke!

Stalk!

Shadows?

Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

BeABurningBallofBitchiness?

Hmm..

Brute.

Protect.

Shield.

Beefcake.

Aegis!

Wait, no, Wards are not pokémon.

As I march on the buzzing in my head grows louder and more irritating. It seems it doesn't want to be ignored. Well, _too bad!_ I've got the mind, I've got the will, so you're not beating me strange-tasting sound! And no, even _now _I don't understand how that works.

Maybe it was something I ate?

There's a pit where the vent intersects with a shaft dropping deeper into the building. I'm not positive, but my guess is a secret base would be underground, so I definitely want to head up. Let's skip this.

BLINK!

I puff into existence on the far side of the pit and turn to watch just in time to see old-me get flattened by the load on its back.

Uh, what?

I guess old-me must have skipped leg day. Haha… yeah. That must be it.

Old-brunch slowly disintegrates into dust and I'm left staring at the mostly-intact pancake that used to be me.

I give her a salute. I'll miss you, old-me! You did your best getting me this far, it's time for now-me to take it up from here!

The impression of a dark, sickly colour is gone, but the buzzing remains. It's louder than before—still getting louder, in fact. Almost like it's reaching a crescendo—

Two things happen suddenly.

The buzzing _pops_, much like a speaker has blown a fuse and crackles out into silence.

And poor, flattened old-me abruptly flips onto her back, writhing and twitching with legs flailing and jerking and _ohgodifshecouldscreamwouldshebescreaming?!_

Then she does one final jerk, her legs slowly curling up as the exoskeleton contracts.

Uhm…

I think I just watched myself die.

…or at least pass out in the most disturbing way imaginable.

No way.

I mean, I've seen higher body counts, Oni Lee himself has probably a kill count in the hundreds, if not thousands of old-mes by now.

But that…

That was _creepy_.

Why did my clone die like that? They've never done that before. I mean, it didn't happen until the buzzing—wait a second.

I drop my eyes to my front legs. I wonder if…

THWACK.

I turn and _punch _the side of the ventilation duct as hard as I can, which isn't all that hard from a purely objective standpoint.

So, the wall doesn't buckle. Neither does my leg, nor do I feel any twinges of pain.

I twist and turn the limb, testing my mobility but still not feeling any of the discomfort I would have expected from such an act.

However, a faint _**Green** _buzz lights up in my head.

I scuttle back to face the direction I'd been heading in before, then BLINK forward a few paces.

I ignore the overall results of an overladen spider (_eeeeeeeeeeeee_) in favour of comparing our front legs. They're both identical, neither of them bent out of shape.

The taste of colours has disappeared, and the faint buzzing is once again reduced to barely a footnote in my thoughts.

I poke it away anyhow.

The sound disappears. Even with its newly… _lowered_ centre of gravity, old-me tips over slightly as its front leg crumples. The bent, now slightly shorter leg throwing off its balance as the other legs do nothing to compensate.

…hmm. Interesting.

I carefully ponder this new development.

I also carefully remove the burden from my back.

Crunch crunch.

Nom nom.

Just to make it clear, this is _not _stress eating.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

It feels like hours—and for once, my sense of time is spot on, because it really has been—before I finally find an untrapped, open vent I can peek out from. Is every room in the lower floors high-security bug hell? I'm feeling discriminated against!

The first thing that draws my attention when I look outside are the sheer numbers of men and women walking around in baggy one-piece jumpsuits or tactical riot-gear. Most of the outfits have three large, white letters picked out against the black fabric. They meander back and forth across what looks like a heavily trafficked corridor occasionally joined by what look like harried office workers in business-casual clutching clipboards or manila folders.

Then I notice an outlier—a single man dressed in a much more informal-looking t-shirt and jeans combination pushing a large cart before him. The cart has several wooden staves strapped to the side opposite my viewpoint, but there is a large yellow tub of some sort attached to the front of the cart lined with a dark plastic.

With most of my spider-eyes directed in my forward arc, I also see the faint movement trails of a thin swarm of flies buzzing up and down the corridor, many of them winging their way after the man, or more specifically, for the open can on his cart.

A janitor, then—trash can, brooms, and mops included. Except I can't puzzle out the large, silvery sphere mounted on a pole to one corner of the cart. None of the surrounding people seem to give him a second glance, so this must not be out of the ordinary for them.

The janitor purposefully stops his cart in the middle of the floor and then pulls out his phone. He taps at the screen for a few moments before reaching out and shoving the cart forward and to the side slightly. He twitches it back and forth for a few more seconds before he glances at his phone once again, then compares it to the floor where the cart is parked.

Then he nods, reaches under the handle of his cart, and does… something. Suddenly I see a very brief flash of light erupt from the sphere and an incredibly high-pitched _SHRIEK _bursts forth. The sound is almost physical in how it seems to jar my _everything_.

The other pedestrians simply walk along, none of them appearing to have even noticed the screech from hell.

Fortunately it's as brief as it is annoying and the janitor makes a quick notation on his phone before grabbing a broom and dust pan and moving further down the corridor, sweeping as he went.

At the same time, _**Purple** _blooms in my awareness and a rather loud buzzing erupts in my head.

Most importantly, I can no longer see any flies buzzing around within my range of vision.

Janitors armed with tinker-made, room-wide pesticides.

No way.

… I hate this place already.


	10. Spider 8

**Spider 8**

I leave my clone to its interpretive dancing while I try to think up a way out of this.

What's the situation?

Fact: I'm stuck in a high-security building, probably very far from where I want to be. Probably several miles as the crow flies, if I'm recalling correctly. As the spider skitters, quite a bit further.

Fact: lots of bug zappers. Like, everywhere. Even the bug zappers have bug zappers.

Fact: Uhh. I guess I count as a bug.

Fact: I don't like being zapped.

So what's the obvious conclusion here?

Well, for one thing, whenever I get out of this place I'm going to need a way to move across large distances. Sure I've got my Blink, but that leaves… leftovers, which I'm certain very few people would be pleased about. Also a very obvious trail, which _I _would be very displeased about.

Flight would be a really awesome ability to obtain, I'm just saying.

For the other thing, don't get zapped. This is actually both easier and harder than it seems at first glance. This is because I seem to have picked up the ability to defer damage for a distant… time.

I had something going there, honest.

This is strange because I have no idea whose power I got this from. It's definitely not Shadow Stalker's because it's not all smokey, so probability lies with it being Aegis'. Which doesn't make sense. I mean, sure he flies, he's super strong, and he can take a lot of—aaaand I have some questions for the Wards now if I ever see them again.

Anyhow, I can ignore damage for a little bit. Which is good, unless I take fatal damage, which all of these bug zappers do to bugs like… me. This is bad.

Fortunately, I have the perfect workaround! Clones! Apparently so long as I haven't yet "taken" the damage, new-mes are perfectly okay! That's good! My old-me clones though… not so much. That's just creepy.

Also, the more damage I take the less time I have to ignore it. So if the zap goes on long enough, I could be making as many mes as I'd want but they'd all constantly be taking hits and eventually dropping my allocated reaction time to zilch.

That's bad, for those still keeping score.

It means I need to avoid any areas where I would take continuous damage, or have any such things applied to myself before I can blink out.

In layman's terms, I need to not stand in rooms that are on fire. That shouldn't be too hard, right?

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Let's focus on escape, first.

Okay, find exit attempt number one. Let's try this ordinary looking office with this ordinary looking office worker.

Why would I try an office first? Duh, windows. Who doesn't work with a window open somewhere? Everybody knows most buildings' air-conditioning sucks. Wait, yours don't? Brockton Bay, I swear…

Besides, I'm _in _the air vents. I'm pretty sure that if there was a good amount of air flowing, I'd know about it. Although come to think of it, it is rather chilly…

Hmm… this guy must be a fancy bourgeois. I don't see any open windows.

In fact, I don't see _any _windows at all.

Am I still underground? Stupid secret bases…

Actually, is it still a secret base if everybody knows where it is and what's inside? The location of the PRT offices are publicly listed in a directory and everybody knows that Brockton Bay's Wards are based here instead of on the Protectorate base. I mean, granted I have no idea _where _inside the base I am, but given that I started in a room full of Wards it's not too much of a stretch to think that I'm in the right general area.

Hmm, there are probably no publicly available floor plans, which means they must be a secret. This is a secret base! Q.E.D.

Lawyered!

Now, helpless minion of a secret organisa—well, I guess the PRT isn't really secret either…

This guy sucks, he's taking all of the fun out of sneaking around just by existing. Maybe I should just bite him just on principle.

I mean, look at him, he's going through his day without a care in the world whilst I'm over here risking life and limb to obtain my freedom. And I've got a _lot _of limbs I need to worry about, too! So press your computer keys, nameless office worker. Do your… form filing and report writing, helplessly ignorant of the harm that is soon to befall you, mwahahaha.

Wait, why is he looking down at his hand? Why is he looking up at me?

Did he see me? That can't be right, how could he possibly see me from way down there? It's just a ceiling vent. Just an eeempty ceiling vent

Um, what's he pulling from his desk? …Is that bug spray? That sure looks like—

AAAH MY EYES!

What is the _reach _on that aerosol can?!

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Find exit attempt number _deux_.

Fun fact, most of you probably know this one already: but carpet isn't a solid surface. It's lots of little fibres that are just so close together most people's feet don't sink into it. It's like walking on a bed of needles… not that I've ever done such a thing, but it's what I've heard.

Still, this _must _be tinker carpet somehow because I'm pretty sure I should be small enough to be able to walk through this like it's a very tightly-grouped forest, but somehow I'm too big to fit. It's not like I've been growing all that much, have I? It definitely can't be because I'm fat! I have a healthy diet and I exercise!

Must be tinker tech. Tinker carpets! Tinker bug zappers! Does the exorbitance of this PRT branch know no limits? I bet there's a box full of tinker pens somewhere! Corruption! I see corruption everywhere, especially when such resources could be used elsewhere!

Perhaps, say, the Docks? Grr…

Hey, I should hunt this carpet tinker down and have him make sheets for me. I bet when I'm back to being old-me a blanket with these levels of thread counts would feel niiiiiice. It's not corruption if you get some of your own gratuity back. I'm just saying that there is room for persuasion here…

Oh well, it's not too big of a loss. I can still walk on top of the carpet and I've got eight eyes, right? I should have no problems avoiding people's—

_SQUISH._

Oof. _**Black**_, that's a new one. That doesn't taste good. ABORT ABORT!

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Attempt _san_, like my sanity.

An elevator! Of course! Why did I not think of this before? This should give me a straight shot to the surface!

Although looking at it… it seems quite clean for an elevator, at least compared to what I've seen before. I mean, they're supposed to have long wires and pulleys and counterweights right? And some sort of rail system they can clamp on to in case all of the above fail?

This looks like a pretty smooth box. Like, there's not even an access ladder that I can see. That doesn't seem right, why wouldn't they put something in for a workman to use for the inevitable service call?

And why are the sides suddenly lighting up?

…what's that humming?

Oh, for crying out loud—tinker _elevators _too?!

Door! Door! Door door door door _doordoordoordoordoor!_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Another Dire Rat? And this one's even smaller than before. What is with this place's priorities?

Oh no, bugs! We can't have those anywhere around here. But rats? Oh sure, no problem!

I should be getting a paycheck from the PRT, I'm performing good community service here!

Crunch crunch.

Nom nom.

I wonder how much I need to eat to grow my leg back.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Attempt number—

"Meow."

Attempt meow? That doesn't make any sense. Oh, um. Is that allowed?

Are pets allowed? This is a _work environment!_

"Rrrrrrrrr… "

I'm just a tiny spider. I have no meat. Good day to you, Mr. Cat.

_Whap. _

Aah! Mrs. Cat then!

_Whap. _

Ms. Cat?! What do you want from me?!

_Bap. _

I said _'__Good day!'_ Leave me alone!

_Bap bap bap. _

Stop it. Stop it! Stahhhhp!

Is this about the rats? I'm sorry (_notsorry_) about the rats but I needed them more than you! I bet your owner gives you kibble anyhow! You should be _plenty _fed!

_Poke. _

Okay, that's it, no more Ms. Nice Spider! Take this!

ɴᴏᴍ

And that!

ɴᴏᴍ ɴᴏᴍ

And… and, you're not feeling any of that are you?

_"__Hisssssssss"_

Oh you are? Well then take thi—

_WHAP._

Ow! Ow ow ow ow ow, ahah freedom!

Yeah, don't give me that look. You don't scare me, kitty! Not with your cute widdle eyes or your floofy toe beans or your wiggly butt.

Wait, doesn't that indicate an incoming poUUUUNCE!

BLINK!

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"Did you hear about Stalker getting thrown into M/S Containment?"

Attempt number oh forget about it. Hey, who let kids in here? Office work is a grownup's job, children! Be gone!

"It wasn't like that. I heard she accidentally brought in a biohazard after a patrol and released it in the common room. She's in _quarantine_, not confinement."

You're clearly not in costume so you can't possibly be—oh are those face masks? Really, you let your Wards just walk in with paper glasses and pray nobody else in the building puts two and two together and sells them out?

"Yeah, but think about it. There's only one place in this whole building where they have secure enough facilities to keep someone contained and prevent any 'hazardous materials' from getting in or out, right?"

"I'm not liking where this is going."

"Riiiight?"

You! Children! Take me back outside! You don't get to enjoy your afternoon without me there to celebrate it with you!

Aaand Parkour! Hah, still got it… Today was not your day, Mr. Baggy-clothing Boy! Fear the prowess of Sneaky Spider!

"…Yeah, fine."

"And that place is…?"

Yes, taller Ward, whoever you are—and may I say that you are looking rather well put together. Where do you get your outfits from? Distract this random redhead so he can sneak me—wait you two are just arriving aren't you? Not leaving?

…I may not have thought this plan through.

"...The holding cells," Smartly-Dressed Boy sighs.

"What kind of holding cells?" Red-Headed Stepchild prompts in a sing-song tone.

"The ones they use for processing people suspected of Master or Stranger influences," comes the admission.

"Ah-HAH!"

"But!" interrupts Boy-Who-Cleans-Up-Nicely-But-Could-Stand-To-Work-Out-A-Bit-More, "that's _not _the same thing as being locked in M/S Containment, Clock. We also use a lot of them for parahuman arrests, mind you."

"...So then you're saying…" the Soulless Gin—wait Clock? As in Clockblocker? Who cares what he's saying, I can use that kind of ability!

_NOM_

"I don't even know why I still let myself get dragged into this," not!Clockblocker sighs. He frowns. "Something wrong?"

"Neck tingles. Somebody must be talking about me."

"Better hope it's not Stalker."

"Oof, even I wouldn't joke about that."

"You just did."

"Well…"

Well, nothing! I've got _time powers _now! Sorry, Gallant or Kid Win or whoever you are, but I've no need for Tinker powers! Although a spider-mech would be a cool thing to—nope! No time! Now thanks for the ride, but I'm out of here!

Time Stop!

…okay we're still moving. Um.

Clocked!

The World!

The word?

Chronoshift!

Um.

Well, crap. What does this even do?

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Long story short, I found out what this did. It stops time.

Shocking, I know.

But that's not the best part! It stops time for everything!

Sounds great, right? But wait, there's more!

It stops time for _me too!_

That's… um. Um?

Y'know the phrase, 'talking as a free action?' Yeah. That's literal for me now. Which would be great, if I had anyone to talk to.

Or, you know, could _actually talk. _

Clockblocker is no longer my favourite Ward.

Not that he ever was, but he's definitely going down on The List.

Time in?

Time out!

Meh, well at least I've sorted that out. Hmm, is he looking at me?

Time in!

"Hey, Clock, I don't mean to scare you but—"

Time out!

Yep, he's looking at me.

Um. Hide?

… right, can't move.

Well then.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_Stealthy Spider's Secret eScape: Fission Mailed_


	11. Console

_(a/n) — because PHO is overrated, anyhow._

* * *

**Console**

FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY (FOUO) — The following documents have been classified: CONFIDENTIAL—EYES ONLY and are not to be duplicated or removed from the premises. Failure to comply is subject to financial or legal recompense, including fines up to 1 000 000 USD or imprisonment up to 10 years. If found, DO NOT OPEN and immediately contact your nearest Parahuman Response Team Office.

* * *

UNITED STATES PARAHUMAN RESPONSE TEAM  
ATLANTIC EAST NORTH-EAST

TRANSCRIPT OF "PRT WARDS CONSOLE" CALL 2011 JAN 15 10:20:43

ACTIVE PARTIES:  
RESPONDER  
CONSOLE (PWENE-5439 "KID WIN")

PATROL UNIT ALPHA  
PENE-8356 "VELOCITY"

PATROL UNIT BETA  
PWENE-7489 "SHADOW STALKER"

* * *

CONSOLE: Patrol, BBPD (ʙʀᴏᴄᴋᴛᴏɴ ʙᴀʏ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ) is forwarding reports of explosions around the Docks. Got anything?

ALPHA: Console, Velocity copies. Heading that direction now. Over.

BETA: Eh, gimme a bit. I've been hearing stuff but I don't see anything ye—nevermind.

BETA: Hey, Kid. Got some grenades going off on the rooftops. Oni Lee (BB-ABB-02) is going nuts over here. Can't quite make out who he's fighting, though.

ALPHA: Stalker, Velocity. Remain on station. Over.

BETA: That's fine, I've got a bead on him anyhow, I can stick him if he stops moving for more than a few seconds.

ALPHA: Stalker, Velocity. Negative negative. Do not engage. Over.

BETA: What the ****?! I'm already here. I can take him.

CONSOLE: Uhh… [REDACTED] (ᴄɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴘᴡᴇɴᴇ-5439's ғɪʟᴇ ғᴏʀ ɪᴍᴘʀᴏᴘᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟs), I'm already passing the info up the chain and they've issued orders. Stay on overwatch and let Velocity keep him occupied until reinforcements arrive.

BETA: [inaudible growling]

ALPHA: Console, Velocity. Am on-site. Engaging Oni Lee. Over.

CONSOLE: PRT Squads en route. Tau ETA four minutes. Bravo, nine minutes.

BETA: Who the **** leaves roadkill on the rooftops? Did Oni Lee scare off some ******* pigeons or something?

ALPHA: Stalker, Velocity. Keep comms clear of personal remarks. Over.

BETA: Don't you have a fight to concentrate on, sir?

ALPHA: Stalker…

BETA: Fine… I'll keep comms clear.

ALPHA: Console, Velocity. Shots fired. Repeat, shots fired. A third party has—nevermind. STALKER!

BETA: [static]

CONSOLE: [REDACTED], I can hear your gloves rubbing over the microphone. That trick doesn't work anymore.

BETA: [static]

ALPHA: Console, Velocity. Oni Lee is withdrawing. Repeat, contact lost. Over.

CONSOLE: Copy that, Velocity. PRT Squads are being re-tasked for SRR (sᴇᴀʀᴄʜ ʀᴇsᴄᴜᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴄᴏᴠᴇʀʏ ᴏᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). BBFD (ʙʀᴏᴄᴋᴛᴏɴ ʙᴀʏ ғɪʀᴇ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ) has been scrambled. Wait for reinforcements then continue patrol.

ALPHA: Console, Velocity. Negative negative. Patrol is returning to base. Over.

BETA: WHAT?

CONSOLE: One moment, Velocity.

CONSOLE: Velocity, message from the Director. Approval granted. Logging a notice for Patrol Groups Gamma and Delta on the schedule change.

ALPHA: Console, Velocity copies. Over.

CONSOLE: See you back at base. Console out.

CALL TERMINATED

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

* * *

UNITED STATES PARAHUMAN RESPONSE TEAM  
ATLANTIC EAST NORTH-EAST

TRANSCRIPT OF "PRT WARDS CONSOLE" CALL 2011 JAN 15 14:15:15

ACTIVE PARTIES:  
RESPONDER  
CONSOLE (PWENE-5439 "KID WIN")

PRT INTERNAL CONFERENCE CALL "WARDS COMMON ROOM"  
VOICES IDENTIFIED:  
PENE-6645 "MISS MILITIA"

PWENE-2344 "AEGIS"  
PWENE-7489 "SHADOW STALKER"  
PWENE-8478 "VISTA"

PRTENE-001138 "BOSS"

* * *

CONSOLE: Hey guys, ambient sensors are picking up a lot of noise down there. Everything okay?

VISTA: [sounds of distress]

S STALKER: Vista, shut the **** up! *******—I stepped in some roadkill during patrol. Right before the thing with Oni Lee. These ****** spiders must have made a nest in it. GAH! They're in my costume! Get them off!

AEGIS: We'll get them, just stay calm, head for the showers, and whatever you do don't—

VISTA: [sounds of distress]

CONSOLE: Mayday mayday mayday. Possible intrusion in Wards Common room. All responders.

AEGIS: Goddamnit, Stalker! Don't use your powers or they'll just—! Now they're everywhere!

S STALKER: ****** kill them already!

BOSS: This is PRT Squad Delta, we're scrambling.

M MILITIA: Kid Win, what's going on?

CONSOLE: Patching you through, ma'am.

AEGIS: Vista! Stay back—okay yeah, you're doing your thing. I don't suppose you could extend that field around me?

VISTA: [sounds of distress]

AEGIS: No? Okay then. I'll just uh… do we have like… a lot of paper we can get them to crawl onto? Shit. I could try to—ow, my hand! You know what, we could—gah! We don't even have a window or door that leads outside?! Who designed this place?!

VISTA: BURN THE CARPET. BURN THE COAT. BURN EVERYTHING!

S STALKER: [sounds of distress]

AEGIS: [sounds of distress]

CONSOLE: What the—accessing remote camera feed.

CONSOLE: [sounds of distress]

M MILITIA: Console? Kid?

BOSS: Door's locked, ma'am.

M MILITIA: Hard override [REDACTED COMMAND CODE]. Breach breach breach!

BOSS: GO GO GO!

BOSS (Accounting for sudden pitch shift): [sounds of distress]

VISTA: [sounds of distress]

CONSOLE: [sounds of distress]

AEGIS: [sounds of distress]

S STALKER: [sounds of distress]

M MILITIA: Console, all clear. Repeat, all clear. Situation normal.

VISTA: I LOVE YOU, MA'AM. HAVE MY BABIES.

M MILITIA: Console, recommend temporary Stranger protocols for entirety of on-site Wards… and PRT Squad Delta. Also recommend Fire and Damage Control to begin operations as soon as possible.

CONSOLE: C-copy that. I'm um… I'm just gonna go do that. Right now.

CALL TERMINATED

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

* * *

UNITED STATES PARAHUMAN RESPONSE TEAM  
ATLANTIC EAST NORTH-EAST

TRANSCRIPT OF "PRT WARDS CONSOLE" CALL 2011 JAN 17 15:48:59

ACTIVE PARTIES:  
RESPONDER  
CONSOLE (PWENE-8478 "VISTA")

PRT INTERNAL CONFERENCE CALL FLB2 COR01  
VOICES IDENTIFIED:  
PWENE-2562 "CLOCKBLOCKER"  
PWENE-4255 "GALLANT"

PRTENE-001138 "BOSS"  
PRTENE-001140 "FIXER"  
PRTENE-001162 "SCORCH"

* * *

GALLANT: Console, reporting a possible Master-class infiltrator in the building.

CONSOLE: Hi, Gallant. Good to hear from you, too. My day's been great, thanks! What's your location?

GALLANT: Sublevel two, the hallway leading to the elevator. Clock's with me, he's got the intruder tagged.

CONSOLE: Building security has been notified, first responders are being scrambled. ID on the intruder?

CLOCKBLOCKER: It's a ******* spider! It bit me on the neck! Hey, [REDACTED] (ᴄɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴘᴡᴇɴᴇ-2562's ғɪʟᴇ ғᴏʀ ɪᴍᴘʀᴏᴘᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟs), how bad does it look?

GALLANT: Clock, we're on the… job. Watch the names. Also watch the spider. Make sure it doesn't get free.

CLOCKBLOCKER: Oh that's easy. Keep an eye on it for me for one sec?

GALLANT: Clock—no, wait. [inaudible growling] Vista, you there?

GALLANT: Vista?

GALLANT: Hello, Console? Are you receiving?

CONSOLE: I'm here! I'm okay! Nothing wrong! It's… I'm alerting Miss Militia too.

GALLANT: [soft laughter] I don't think the situation's quite that bad yet.

CONSOLE: It's the only way to be sure.

GALLANT: Right… Clock?

CLOCKBLOCKER: Got it! Here, help me slide this underneath it.

GALLANT: Really? A cup and a piece of paper?

CLOCKBLOCKER: Yep. Got it? Aaand… now it's definitely not going anywhere. Plus, I don't have to touch it. Win-win.

CONSOLE: I'm scrambling a second squad.

CLOCK: Oh, hey Vista, didn't hear you there. Is this like the thing you were telling us about the other day?

CONSOLE: I'm also filing a complaint against Armsmaster for inadequate countermeasures to building security.

GALLANT: Uh, you probably shouldn't do that, Vista. Not even as a joke. He takes those slights to his tech seriously.

CONSOLE: Good.

CLOCKBLOCKER: Hey, Gallant, does this thing look funny to you? It looks like a jumping spider but it's way bigger than most I've seen before. Also what's up with its face?

GALLANT: Well, that just proves it. It's also broadcasting emotions. Human-like ones. Console make a note, this is why I was calling in a—Clock it's unstuck!

CLOCKBLOCKER: Nah, it's fine. I'm keeping the cup refreshed. Wow, if I didn't know any better I'd say it was confused.

GALLANT: It… it is confused. And panicking. It's almost scary how fast it switched from triumphant to that. Make sure it doesn't escape. Console, ETA on those responders?

SCORCH: Boss, I don't know why you wanted me to take point on this, it's just one call-in, even if Console decided to scramble a second—oh, we're here.

BOSS: PRT Squad Delta reporting. What seems to be the issue, kids?

GALLANT: Nevermind, Console.

CLOCKBLOCKER: Aww, look at it. It's just turning and poking the glass. It's almost adorable.

BOSS: [faint sounds of distress]

FIXER: Boss?

BOSS: Scorch, authorisation to deploy specialised gear! (ᴄɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴘʀᴛᴇɴᴇ-001138's ғɪʟᴇ ғᴏʀ ɪᴍᴘʀᴏᴘᴇʀ ᴀʀᴍᴏᴜʀʏ ʀᴇǫᴜɪsɪᴛɪᴏɴɪɴɢ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇᴅᴜʀᴇ)

SCORCH: Uh… what?

GALLANT: Uhm, I think it heard you, whatever you're referenci—oi! It's not there anymore!

CLOCKBLOCKER: What are you talking about, it's right here.

GALLANT: No, it just went dark! The emotions are all gone. Console, I think our Master decided to cut its losses.

CLOCKBLOCKER: Aww, it stopped moving. You mean it's dead?

BOSS: Young man, step away from that thing. Scorch, let 'er rip.

CLOCKBLOCKER: Can't. Time-locked. Give it another five to fifteen.

GALLANT: Guys, behind us! There's another mind somewhere over there!

FIXER: I see it, it's another one of those vermin on the wall.

CONSOLE: Uh, repeat that? Did you just say there's more?

BOSS: OPEN FIRE! WEAPONS FREE, OPEN FIRE! (ᴄɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴘʀᴛᴇɴᴇ-001138's ғɪʟᴇ ғᴏʀ ᴜɴᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀɪsᴇᴅ ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀɪsᴀᴛɪᴏɴ)

SCORCH: Affirmative.

[sounds of heavy weapons discharge]

GALLANT: WHOA!

CLOCKBLOCKER: YIKES!

FIXER: Contact! Hard contact!

GALLANT: Uhh… Vista, there's suddenly a lot of these things, although I'm still only sensing one mind. We're under attack by… webs.

CLOCKBLOCKER: It's in my hair! It's on my clothes! Oh the humanity!

GALLANT: Yeah, and the PRT guys are kinda going nuts. Do you wanna help us out here?

CONSOLE: Negative. That is a hard negative. Console duty is very important. It's very important that I stay up here and help coordinate the local response. VERY IMPORTANT.

BOSS: [sounds of distress]

FIXER: Officer down! Officer down! Command, we are under heavy assault from… improvised trip lines.

BOSS: [sounds of distress]

FIXER: And… um… close-quarters combat. Repeat, we are being swarmed here.

GALLANT: [sounds of distress]

[sounds of heavy weapons discharge]

SCORCH: [maniacal laughter] (ɴᴏᴛᴇ: ʀᴇᴄᴏᴍᴍᴇɴᴅ ᴘʀᴛᴇɴᴇ-001162 ғᴏʀ ᴘsʏᴄʜᴏʟᴏɢɪᴄᴀʟ ᴇᴠᴀʟᴜᴀᴛɪᴏɴ)

GALLANT: Clock! CLOCK!

CONSOLE: Gallant?!

GALLANT: That ****** is pretending to be frozen! He's playing dead—ow!

CONSOLE: Alpha Squad is en route! They were stuck dealing with some sort of snafu in the armoury but are on their way now, Gallant!

FIXER: Command, all clear. Repeat, all clear. Situation… well, ****** up. But hostiles have been terminated.

CONSOLE: Is everyone okay?!

FIXER: No casualties, but I've got men down here who are all tied up… literally. I'm not even sure how it happened.

SCORCH: My weapon broke.

FIXER: Scorch's flamethrower got jammed somehow. I didn't even know that could happen.

CLOCKBLOCKER: Damn. Why's everything on fire? This is fine… this is okay. WHY IS EVERYTHING ON FIRE?

CONSOLE: Welcome back, [REDACTED] (ᴄɪᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴘʟᴀᴄᴇᴅ ɪɴ ᴘᴡᴇɴᴇ-8478's ғɪʟᴇ ғᴏʀ ɪᴍᴘʀᴏᴘᴇʀ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴘʀᴏᴛᴏᴄᴏʟs), you dumbass.

FIXER: Minor abrasions on almost… hm… nope, abrasions on everyone. Procurement should really look into better seals for our gear. I got bit on my hands under my gloves somehow. No real damage though.

SCORCH: Boss looks like he's convulsing.

FIXER: I already checked, that's not an allergic reaction. He's just wigging out.

SCORCH: Man… we are never letting him live this down, are we.

FIXER: Nope.

GALLANT: I got lucky, only one bite on my ankle. Gah, I hate it when bugs bite there, they always itch the worst.

CONSOLE: What! Gallant you got hit?! Paramedics are standing by! I'll come down to assist!

GALLANT: Wait, what? NOW you're coming down?

CALL TERMINATED

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

* * *

UNITED STATES PARAHUMAN RESPONSE TEAM  
ATLANTIC EAST NORTH-EAST

TRANSCRIPT OF "PRT WARDS CONSOLE" CALL 2011 JAN 20 20:12:11

ACTIVE PARTIES:  
RESPONDER  
CONSOLE (PWENE-2562 "CLOCKBLOCKER")

PATROL UNIT EPSILON  
PENE-2288 "BATTERY"

PATROL UNIT ZETA  
PENE-2772 "ASSAULT"

* * *

ZETA: Console, Puppy's spotted an ongoing fight between E88 and New Wave. What's the word?

[sounds of brief unarmed combat]

CONSOLE: Uh… Word from BBPD (ʙʀᴏᴄᴋᴛᴏɴ ʙᴀʏ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ᴅᴇᴘᴀʀᴛᴍᴇɴᴛ) is… pretty much exactly that. North end of downtown, almost at the docks. Eyewitness reports seeing at least two New Wave fliers and Rune.

EPSILON: Console, Battery confirms. Rune and several active shooters from the Empire. New Wave's patrol is Lady Photon and Laserdream. I'm seeing some light trails in the distance, possibly Shielder pacing Manpower en route.

CONSOLE: Copy that. Passing it up the chain.

CONSOLE: Um, orders are to observe and stand ready to assist, but only if the Empire escalates.

ZETA: Aww.

[sounds of brief unarmed combat]

ZETA: Woman, that's my head… Assault copies.

EPSILON: Battery copies. We're on our way.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

The last of the audio files wound down and the projector with the helpful subtitles dimmed as the conference room's lights returned to full brightness.

The heavyset woman at the head of the table struggled to her feet and carefully closed the manila folder in her hand. "Infiltration of a secure area," she stated in a low voice, glaring at the dark-skinned Ward to one side of the table who stared back defiantly.

"Impotent leadership," she directed her gaze to the dark-haired boy lowering his own eyes to the table.

"Incompetence of those under your care," she hissed at a rather slender man ostensibly consulting with—but was, in practice, in charge of—their special forces' training. His expression remained placid, simply raising an eyebrow in return.

"And when we finally get the chance to do some real intelligence gathering… interference," she concluded, turning towards the opposite side of the table.

"I swear the recordings should have gone further than that," the red-headed Ward muttered. "I don't ever touch those settings."

She took a few moments to shuffle the folder in with the rest of the stack before her… and then all but threw the whole thing to the centre of the table. The sound had barely echoed through the room before it was joined by the slam of her hands meeting the table top.

She glared at those present, her hard eyes promising no mercy.

"I want explanations," Director Piggot hissed. "Now."


	12. Spider 9

**Spider 9**

There's no more lying to myself. I have to face reality. Just… just gotta suck it up and admit what I've realised this whole time, ignoring all evidence to the contrary.

I've gotten fat.

It's not my fault! I've been careful about extra snacks—I've barely eaten any bugs or rats since I've gotten stuck in here! I mean, there was that one… or two in the ductworks… the leftover flies the janitors missed when sweeping up, the random bugs that got blown into my Home whenever I decided to take a quick nap… I think there was a cat? No, no I think I ran from that one.

But other than that, I've been watching my diet! It's a complete mystery! Clearly it must be something _else_ causing me to balloon up from my svelte spiderling size.

It still would have been nice to come to this realisation before I tried using the ventilation grill to escaping the burning room behind me.

Oh yeah, the room is on fire. Did I mention that?

It's totally not my fault.

No way.

That would be tweedle dee and tweedle dum back there, as well as the really loud PRT trooper. I didn't know a grown man could reach pitches that high.

It doesn't help that I got a _massive_ headache when I nom'd on Gallant. It felt like a mis-aligned television antenna, half picture and half static, like something with a really bad connection. It was so bad that just biting him gave _me_ a yellow buzz. I think I took more damage from _that_ than the entire snafu I just left behind.

_Am_ leaving behind.

Will totally leave, just as soon as I get my ass unstuck from these metal bars.

Hrnng. _HRRRRRRNNNNNGHHH._

I don't like my big butt. I cannot lie.

Oh who am I kidding.

Blink.

Aah~ too much blinking. Too much eating. I mean, fighting. Not eating. Whatever.

I'm sleepy.

Am I in a far enough, safe enough corner? I don't know, don't care. Good enough for government work.

Non-sticky threads, Home away from home. G'niiiiiite.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Okay, I am _positive_ these vents were bigger last night.

Ignore the pile of shed skin in the corner there. That is… totally something else. Not me. Cuz I'm not fat.

…

…I'm _trying_ to be good, okay?!

On the plus side, I finally got my missing leg back.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

So, it turns out climbing the tinker elevator is not as hard as it looks. All I needed was lightning-fast reflexes and the good fortune to break through the paneling onto a floor where nobody was around!

So, yeah, I just needed to be skilled and lucky!

…or I could cheat like the cheating cheater I am and just set up a chain of Blinks straight up the shaft. Sure, I'm consigning tens or hundreds of mes to being crushed to death, but I think after sending hordes of mes to their doom via burnination on two separate occasions, I'm well past that particular moral line.

Elevator active and dropping towards me? No problem, just speed up my perceptions until I can spot the tiny window of opportunity—where I can get a good angle to see past the actual lift to the wall beyond it. Juuuust before I get squished.

Bye bye, old-me. You will be missed along with your many, _many_ sisters. I'd hate to be the guy who ends up cleaning the bottom of that shaft.

Now the un-fun part. Trying to see if a particular floor is clear of people. Or rather, trying to _sense_ for that information.

I don't know who made Gallant's wiki page, but it's totally off base. He is not a tinker. Either that or he's a tinker with the _weirdest_ speciality I've ever heard of, because right now I've got something like a proximity radar in my head that tells me if somebody is bored out of their minds, having a panic attack, or something in between.

Using it also hurts in a way that bypasses my damage deferment, probably because it's all in my head. Who knew that sometimes a psychiatrist could be right? It's all in your head, it's all in your head~

Yeah, but it's still _real_ and hurts like a bitch.

Long story short, I don't like using the eMotion Tracker and I probably won't ever again unless I need to.

…

Hello, wood paneling.

_Poke_ _poke._

… I need heavier arms.

To sum up my adventures in the elevator. I found the ground floor. I also found that the ground floor is populated by tourists. Lots of excited people everywhere, a humongous security presence, and overall just a _bad_ place to make my exit from.

All the higher floors were offices and open windows, which would probably be fine as far as exits go, but then I'd have to deal with the wind. I think I've made my opinion on wind quite clear by now.

So here's me, backtracking down the shaft for a bit, I find a relatively quiet area staffed by very few guards, all of whom track as being in states of near-complete apathy. That sounds fine, but my power's been mean before so I don't take it for granted just yet.

Breaking through the elevator vents doesn't seem to alert them, however. They ignore the sound of a discharging bug zapper when I mis-target a Blink (quickly followed by another Blink because _ow_). They barely look up from their phone, much less watched the ceiling as I crawl past them. And they even ignored the rat scrambling just past their desk. Okay power, you win _this_ one.

Oh hey, breakfast. Sticky threads!

Anyhow, relatively low-security area here, which is really weird to me because this place looks like a parking garage.

I guess those signs warning people not to lock valuables in their cars have something to them after all. The guards sure as hell don't care.

Crunch crunch.

Nom nom.

… should I be bothered that I was able to catch a rat with just threads now? It barely even put up a struggle. Also, I haven't seen a single Dire Rat all day. I guess this building's pest control only focuses on big stuff, not the little ones.

Crunch crunch.

Nom… I'm not fat, I swear.

…nom.

Pick a car, any car…

Oh hey, troopers. Marching below me without a care—well, I guess they do have something to care about if they're marching with such purpose into the vehicle lot.

I pick… I pick… oi, march faster. Double time it or whatever it's called. Okay, there! I pick _that_ car! Van. Whatever.

Parkour!

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Aah, freedom. The sun on my skin. The wind in my—fuck you wind, not this time.

On the upside, I'm free of that building from hell. Never going back to the PRT building if _I_ have anything to say about it.

_Poke poke._

On the downside, I'm lost again. The PRT scrambled for some random gang fight that probably once had a cape involved in it, but by the time they arrived everything was over anyhow so… whelp, time to see what's around.

Buildings. Eyup. Great navigational skills, me. Climbing a building (with a thread belaying me, because _grrr_ wind), is relatively simple compared to a whole elevator scramble. But I can't recognise any landmarks other than 'city' from way up here.

Ooh, a bird! Pigeons, but still birds! I got totally shafted by Aegis back there, so time to test a new theory! Remember how the concept of rats as disease-carrying vermin somehow got me venomous bites? Well, what else is a bird known for than flying! This will totally make my day!

C'mere bird!

…or, just fly away. Yeah. Um… I don't know why I thought that'd work. Okay. It's okay, think… think. What else can I do…?

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Okay, reasonably tall apartment buildings, check. Gusty alleyway with big updrafts that observation has revealed many birds like to take advantage of to gain altitude, check. Sticky threads… check. _Giant sized bird-catching_ web?! Check! Mwaahahahahahaha!

What could go wrong?!

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Okay, so what have we learned?

Webs are relatively hard to see. This is why most bugs—and some people—can run into them without noticing.

Webs also collect dust fairly quickly. This is why _most_ people can see them quite easily and go around them.

Big webs also means more surface area to catch more dust… kind of like the amounts that blow through a big gusty alleyway.

Which means it quickly becomes a very visible thing that even the dumbest bird knows to avoid.

Ehh, remind me to cut this down at some point before somebody flips out.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

I just want to fly. Is that such a bad thing?

Why does life wish to deny a poor spider her dreams? I've been good, I've been eating my vegetables—if one considers flies to be like vegetables in the way children refuse to eat either of them. So yeah, a perfectly-behaved adolescent spider.

Shouldn't I be rewarded for that? Even just a little bit?

Life isn't fair.

It's not faaair, _it's not fair!_

I am not throwing a tantrum, just to be clear.

I am _kinetically_ pouting. It's like normal pouting, but the oscillating makes it more _meaningful._

See? I have a reason behind this madness.

Or sadness.

WHYYYYYY?! It's not faaaaaaairrrrrrr!

Um, _**Yellow** _buzz. Hello.

Um, _**Yellow** _buzz again. It's stacking, that's not good. What's going on? Time out! _Time out!_

Oh. OH!

Um, okay… so. What have we learned?

Birds can somehow spot a pouncing spider and will instinctively escape and reassess a situation.

Birds can also spot giant dust-covered webs and fly around them.

Finally, some kinds of birds can spot what appears to be a bug rolling around in distress from the air and think _'__food.'  
_  
So, Operation: Lure in a Bird to NOM is a success!

Except the wrong thing is being nom'd! STOP EATING ME! I'm not losing a leg! Not again!

Time in.

Blink!

Thread lasso, bitch!

Oh, you don't like that, huh? Too bad!

Blink! Thread lasso!

Blink! Thread Lasso!

Blink! _Thread Lasso!_

Comfy? No? Can you move? No?

Eh~xcellent.

By the way, this is me cleaning my limbs off, it is not me steepling my hands together. Why would you think such a thing? I don't even have hands; that's just silly.

Now, become my wings!

NOM!

Hmm, no wings. That's disappointing. Maybe I'll get some sort of sky-stepping ability? Let's go test it!

To infinity and beyond!

…

WHYYYYyyyyyyyyy…. ʙʟɪɴᴋ

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Okay, uh… maybe a running start then?

Yip yip!

AAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhh…. ʙʟɪɴᴋ

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

I think I need more bird.

Crunch crunch.

Nom—oh, you're still alive?

NOM nom.

Flyyy like an eagle! _oratleastthehawkIjustnom'd_

NOOOOOOooooooooo… ʙʟɪɴᴋ

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

ʙʟɪɴᴋ

ʙʟɪɴᴋ

.

.

.

ʙʟɪɴᴋ

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Haah~ haah~ Okay, what gives? I nom'd a bird and get nothing for it?

Also, am I suicidal? I must have tried… uhm…

Wow that's a lot of mes down there. I must have tried… _eleventwelvethirtee_—a _lot_ of times, throwing myself off a roof here and no flight at all!

This sucks! This is so unfair! What gives, powers?! Why can't you make sense or be consistent?!

Clearly I need to eat more birds. Yeah, because my power needs more examples for me to nom before it can get the concept. Totally, not feeling vindictive at all.

Nope.

Hmm, hey is that the Medhall building way yonder? I must have missed it earlier, can't imagine how.

Here's an idea: let's go thataway. And _murder_ every bird I see along the way.

For science! Er, powers.


	13. Spider 10

**Spider 10**

If my life were some sort of epic—some sort of clearly defined hero's journey—my seemingly random decisions would keep taking me into plot-relevant situations. But despite having spent a human childhood reading lots of books, despite living in a city full of powered heroes and villains, I am fully aware of the fact that my life is not subject to narrative causality.

Which is why, when I stumble upon an alleyway full of skinheads boozing themselves up with liquid courage in an attempt to do… something, I'm finding myself to be _extremely_ suspicious.

…Is there something I should know about?

No way.

I'm just being silly. It's a coincidence.

The Empire Eighty-Eight is the other big-name gang in Brockton Bay, larger than even the Azn Bad Boys. Both of them have fairly similar, if ideologically opposing, beliefs and operations. Both claim to support racial superiority. Both peddle drugs and sex slaves. Both have a core of high-tier capes backed up by hordes of unwashed and untrained mobs. The E88, as they abbreviate themselves, have the further distinction of being literal Neo-Nazis.

The ABB is just plain racist. So they're just a smidge bit better. Also their leader has a weird predilection for naming himself after body parts.

I still don't get it.

Anyhow, my point is when I come across a bunch of white men, wearing wife beaters that have a higher thread count than their skulls, all carrying guns and knives and other instruments of smacky smacky, there's a one-in-two chance of who they belong to.

Well, maybe one-in-three? There's also the Merchants.

But then, nobody takes the Merchants seriously as a gang. Druggies whose territory you still don't want to wander into by accident, but not like a real threat you can't already find in every city… ever.

Two-in-five then? Yeah let's go with that.

Anyhow, what was I talking about, ah yes, Nazis.

No, no wait. Before that. Um… Oh yeah!

My life is not a story! What gives?

… actually the Nazi thing is probably more important.

I mean, what are they actually doing here? They're gathered up within spitting distance of Brockton Bay's most lucrative corporate headquarters, but they don't seem concerned about the possibility of some nervous white-collar worker calling the police down upon them. I can't quite make out what they're saying. I suppose I should try to get closer… I mean, it's not like _I'm_ likely to be spotted, right?

_Poke poke._

I really wish I had enough mass to be able to _knock on _something…

Parkour! Wait, now is not the time for battle cries. ᴘᴀʀᴋᴏᴜʀ!

Hmm… so they have a leader. Or at least a speaker. I wonder if it's a rally?

"…show them who belongs in _our _neighborhood," the man says. "Kids? They're easy, just scare them and they run to the druggies. It's the old ones you've gotta beat some sense into. They're stubborn."

Well, it is a rally of a sort… probably not too important then. It's just some gangbangers being gangbangers and wanting to beat up homeless people or something.

"So the seniors? Just stick 'em. Don't even bother with the clubs, just knife them or shoot them. Doesn't matter where you hit them, just make them bleed. You see one lying on the ground? Ventilate him some more just to be sure."

A lynch mob that was _targeting _old people? That's… that's all kinds of messed up. And weird.

"Don't give them any chances to be witty or try to tell you some magical negro shit, that stuff is just in movies, got it?"

…I got nothing.

The rest of the mob nods or murmurs agreements.

…

Eh, nothing to do with me. I'm just one spider, what can I possibly do to all these guys?

"Just in case things go sour, we've got some backup," the leader jabs a thumb over his shoulder towards the building at his back. "So I don't want anyone running scared, got it?"

Eh? Oh, oh! Up on the roof! It's a bird! No, it's a plane!

...why would a plane be up on a roof? That makes zero sense.

No, it's a cape! Forget everything, it's an evil-doer, let's go be a hero of justice! Go save the… who were they after again? Ehh… let's just say it was kids. Nobody likes a child abuser. Go save the kids! Be a hero against… that guy! _andpossiblynomsomethinguseful._ Heroics! Yay!

Um… who is it anyhow? The other problem with the E88 is that they have so many capes on their roster that I can't tell who is who. This one is wearing some sort of cloak, so I guess the fact that they have clothes on rules out Hookwolf.

How fiendish, disguising themselves in robes that hide their figure.

Also, robes. Hard to nom through. _Doubly _fiendish!

What to do, what to do…? Jumping at targets and trying to nom things either makes them run away or set everything around me on fire, so let's not do that.

This time.

Besides, I've already accidentally swarmed the PRT a few times, so I don't want to do that again if I can help it. I mean, once could be an accident. Twice is suspicious. Three times is enemy action.

Or was it enemy action after the second one? Did I already out myself? Arrgh.

Well, in that case the only thing to do would be to charge in and nom some Nazi. I mean, I'd already accidentally (_notaccidentally_) stolen some heroes' powers, I can start balancing the scales now, right? Take a villain's abilities and use them for the side of good!

…But none of this is actually working towards my ultimate goal. I was just heading towards one of the most iconic skyscrapers in the city so I could get my bearings, to get myself home. None of this has anything to do with me. I should just move along and keep trying to find my way back.

But, then again, think of the _powers!_

Grrrrrrrrrrrr… I need some sort of sign!

"CAPE!" one of the skinheads suddenly shouts, pointing upwards.

Pointing towards _me_.

Uhm, not the kind of sign I was hoping to get. Did I underestimate how observant these guys were? Am I not small enough? Damnit, I knew I should have listened to myself and stopped eating birds about twenty back. I'm fat! I knew it!

Okay, Nazi scum, if you want to scuffle with a spider then I'm gonna show you some… stuff!

That is a _lot_ of faces looking up at me.

Mysterious Robed Cape is getting up, too. Heheheheee… _I'msodead._

You can do this, me. I believe in you. Who is me. I believe in me.

I believe in the me who believes in me being you who is me—_owmyhead._

Focus! Focus on the problem in front of you!

_SHOOM._

Uhm? Too much focus?

Did I suddenly get eye-lasers? I don't remember getting eye-lasers, but if I did those must have been some _weird _birds I nom'd. But the evidence is clearly in front of me, I stared at some gangbanger and now he's ass over tea kettle with lightly burned clothes.

"This is an unlawful gathering! Disperse or you will be placed under citizen's arrest!" a strident voice cries out.

From behind me. And above me.

Thank goodness, nobody actually spotted me. They were just looking at some hero behin—_more capes?!_

Oh! Hiiii, Photon Mom! Here to save the day! Or at least to save me from my dilemma!

Here, you take the… everyone, I'll take mystery cape!

The few gangbangers who are actually carrying guns immediately raise them and open fire on the independent hero. The ones with bats and knives can only look disappointed as they're left out of all the fun. That is, until the group as a whole is strafed cross-wise by her backup, Laserdream.

New Wave is almost like another gang, except made of good guys. They don't belong to the Protectorate or their Wards, instead being a fairly close-knit group by themselves. They're notable for two—no, three things. Firstly, they're two related families, linked by the co-leader sisters Brandish and Photon Mom. Secondly, they've made it their mission statement to set an example for capes to act openly and without hiding anything about themselves—which is why everybody knows the first.

The fact that they're still using names like Photon Mom, Brandish, and Laserdream speaks about how well that one is going for them…

Thirdly—_and this is the most important part_—they have the greatest concentration of flying capes on this side of the country.

I'm very sorry; I know I swore off noming heroes. But… but, you'd understand, right?

It's for a good cause.

Still, I probably shouldn't go after New Wave first, that's _really_ asking to be mislabeled. I should at least make a token effort on the Empire cape and uh… take advantage of the post-battle meet-and-greet? When we congratulate each other and shake each other's hands?

…Y'know, I bet Laserdream is an easier target than her mom.

The Empire cape, unfortunately, does not dramatically reveal their identity by throwing off their robes in a dramatic fashion. Instead, they go the boring route and simply throw a rock at the two flyers. And by 'throw' I mean they poke part of the building beside them which somehow launches pieces of it into the air.

Oh, it's the telekinetic. Rune. Who wears robes.

I knew that. Obvious.

Both heroes respond to the hail of gunfire in their general direction by raising shields of hard light to deflect them. Which is probably a good idea, because 'general direction' in this case mostly meant 'upwards,' with no regard to bearing. How heroic. Who knows where the bullets would eventually come down if they'd left them alone?

I decide to take a mostly straight-forward path in sneaking up on the relatively immobile Empire cape. No approach was any better than another, plus with New Wave flitting about like drunk bumblebees Rune's attention is already being pulled in multiple directions.

I do want to limit my use of Blinks, because the last thing I need is to litter the area with spiderlings and alert the mooks to my presence. Even if I can keep the usage down to just two or three hops, I'm certain that with my luck _somebody _is gonna flip out and alert everyone else. Probably with a lot of screaming.

At worst, somebody will try to set their friend on fire. You never know with Nazi's, they aren't always right in the head.

Time for an old standby I didn't get to make much use of inside the PRT building, Grappling Threads!

Let's see, I can… jump off this roof towards the building across the way, web sling down the street for the next two then switch back over to this side. Another bit of _actual _parkour… or just running, it's not like the HVAC piping is large enough to impede me, aaand… can I make that last jump? I can't tell how far those two buildings are. Oh well, worse comes to worse I'll hit the side of the building and just climb. Nobody's paying attention to the walls when there's targets in the air, right?

Here we go! Grappling Threads!

_Wheeee_

_Wheeeeeee_

_WHEEEEEEEEE_—oops I missed my turn.

Grappling Threads! No worries, just have to come from the side, then!

Parkour! Mind the gap~

Run! Okay that one needs work. But really, how can I spice up skittering as fast as I can? Here's the edge, another jump and—rock!

Rock? _ROCK!_

Ow.

On one hand, not squished. That's good. On the other, That's a red card. I need to break away somehow and get rid of this. Don't want to let the damage stack up any higher.

The good news is I've got a ready-made transport away from the battlefield, just as soon as I pass this New Wave flyer.

_Thunk._

Ooooor not. Well, looks like _someone_ wasn't paying attention! That's gotta hurt.

Hello, Laserdream, mind if I hitch a ride? Uh… are you still alive? That's a pretty nasty-looking head wound. Although I read somewhere that head wounds always look worse than they actually are. Still, shouldn't you be, I don't know, flying?

Errgh… where's Photon Mom? Oh she's busy being very upset at Rune, that's quite the light show. Um. Um.

I'm gonna regret this.

Grappling thread! Grappling thread! Okay, package secured, lifeline attached… and swing!

Heave-HO!

…I did not think this through. Tiny spider vs. heavy teenaged girl. Why did I think I could slow her momentum? AAAAH!

Well, might as well take advantage while she's still alive. Stunned and possibly unconscious, but better now than when she slams into some wall.

…Okay that could have been phrased more carefully. I'm not taking advantage of an unconscious girl! Not that way, at least!

…Er, there's no way I can make this sound any better. Sorry. At least I can try to hide it as a bump in the head.

NOM.

Flying abilities, get! Lifeline still secured, now let's spit on physics with bullshit flying powers! FLY!

…

AAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh… ʙʟɪɴᴋ

Oh, _come on! _

Wait, I left old-me still attached. I probably should have cut the thread first, shouldn't I? Um, to chase after Laserdream or resume sneaking up to Rune?

_Thump._

Oh! Good catch! Good show, Blue Boy! Um. Shielder, right? Way to save your sister! Okay, rescue job's taken care of, back to stealing powers from the Empire!

_Pew._

AH! Who's shooting at me? _WHY_ are they shooting at me?!

Oh, uh… looks like Shielder noticed the thread. Noticed the old-me. Noticed me-me. Very observant, young man. You do New Wave proud.

_Pew pew pew pew._

Ah! Ahh! AHHHH! _Stop using me to make them proud!_

"Mo—Lady Photon, watch out! The Empire has backup!" the boy cries out, still holding his sister in a classic princess carry. "Manpower's delayed, he got caught up in some sort trap and I found something attacking Laserdream!"

Uhhh…

…I forgot to take down the bird-catching web, didn't I?

This isn't what it looks like? It definitely doesn't look good, which it isn't! But it's not… meant… to?

_Pew!_

Ahh!

Whelp. If I didn't get flight, then there's one other thing I could have gotten from Laserdream! Time for some suppression fire followed by escape and evasion, then!

EYE-LASERS!

…

Eye-lasers?

…

Oh come on, don't I get _anything _nice?


	14. Spider 11

**Spider 11**

The Western Front. The Battle of the Bulge. This really neat documentary I once saw on the History Channel.

Shielder's anemic lasers.

Greater warriors than I have suffered under the kind of suppressive bombardments that characterised my current situation, but I'm sure none felt quite so helpless. I mean, at least they had the option to shoot back. Granted, they probably had an extremely high chance of getting their heads blown off if they ever raised them out of their trenches or foxholes, but the option was still there.

Shielder is hovering several metres above my chosen hiding spot, Laserdream half-sprawled over his shoulder. The same bullshit powers that allow him to fly also seem to allow her weight to be supported using only one of his hands without any noticeable strain. There's a faint, yet clearly defined cobalt hard light construct between the two of us, through which he sticks his free hand out to rain death upon me.

The lone male flyer in New Wave may have had the least offensive capabilities on the team, especially when compared with the rest of his family, but he still _had _ranged capabilities. Enough, at least, to pin me down beneath some rooftop HVAC ducts.

What could I do? Throw threads at him?

…Actually, now that I think about it…

Grappling Threads!

A burst of strands erupt—a core of sticky threads with non-sticky ones braiding themselves around and reinforcing it—from beneath the air duct I was hiding under. As they form, they curve sharply and shoot unerringly towards the flyer, who shifts his hand minutely and blasts them from the sky.

Nope, nope that didn't work.

_Pewpewpewpew._

He then resumes the aerial barrage pinning me in place.

I suppose I could have just Blinked away, but unless I went full-on Oni Lee and abandoned everything the blue bomber would probably just run me down. Fly me down. Whatever.

On the other hand, if I can somehow bait him in closer or figure out a way to approach him whilst Photon Mom is still busy dealing with Rune, I may have another shot at the coveted levitation ability.

Not that I'd gotten anything from his sister. No eye-lasers, no flight, no _nothing!_ Screw you, Laserdream! I spit at thee!

Ptooey!

_Hissssssssss._

The squared-off edge of the ductwork softens and corrodes, the result of a bright, neon-green bolt of _something _striking it.

Uh… Hey my fangs are out, I don't remember doing that. _Ow_—still sharp as ever. Really, though? Venom spit? Neon green? Oh God, I'm EVIL aren't I? Everybody knows that **E**very **V**illain **I**s **L**ime! Why'd I get the colour of badness?!

Wait, Vista's colour theme is green, isn't it? No wait, her costume is a bit darker and not really glowy.

_OH MY GOD!_ Eidolon is glowy-green! Is _he _evil?! Are we all doomed?!

Wait, wait. No, that makes zero sense. He's a member of The Triumvirate—that's like top-tier hero. Phew, I'm feeling better now. EVIL doesn't always apply. I'm still good.

Let's try that again.

Ptooey!

_Hissssssssss._

Okay, so: venomous… corrosive… acidic… spit… thing. I guess this means I have a ranged attack now! But don't think this makes us even, Laserdream!

_Pew pew pew pew!_

AAAH! How did he break through the metal?! I could have sworn his lasers weren't strong enough to—

_Hissssssssss…_

Oh, that was me. I did that. Uhm… oops?

Okay, time to find new cover… Time Out!

Okay, there's this HVAC unit, currently being chewed to bits… another HVAC unit, kind of far… stairwell access, useless to me since I can't open doors… satellite antenna, too little cover… hmm. Let's go with the other HVAC. Even if it's a bit of a distance it's still close to the edge of the roof and I've got a plan!

Let's see, there's a building there… and there… and Shielder is there… can I get him to stay still? One way to find out!

Time In!

_Pewpewpewpew._

_Thwip._ Grappling Threads! Of course, who needs to run when you can _yoink!_

Yeah! Go, Spider-spider!

Safe! For now. This one's a bit more open but even if he can see me, he can't hit me so easily either.

Okay, soon-to-be-old-me, distract him somehow! Blink! To the left (building)!

Where's Shiel—there he is. Okay me, wait three seconds. Blink! To the right (building)!

Reorient, good. Wait two seconds. Blink! Stand up!

Last one… wait one second, Blink! Sit down!

"Uh… is that thing doing the Macarena?"

_Oh my God_ old-me! What was I thinking?! Why would you—that's _embarrassing!_ Oh well, distraction served, one last Blink! _Fight, fight, fight!_

Ptooey! Ptooey! Ptooey!

_Hissssssssss._

"Ah! Oh shit, there's more of them!"

_Plink! Plink! Plinkplinkplinkplink!_

Hm, good reflexes, buddy. Near-instant bubble shield, full three-sixty degree coverage. Looks very sturdy, a good way to keep things out there from getting in here.

Too bad, _I'm already inside._

Mwahahaha!

Er, I mean that in the nicest, least awkward way possible, of course.

Now, a sneak attack plus that exclamation (_don'tthinkIwasn'tpayingattention!_) means that you must have gotten hit at least once before you noticed and stopped the rest, so… where is the damage to your costume? Oof, right between the shoulder blades. I feel for you, buddy, that place is a _pain _to scratch. Oh well.

Thanks for the meal~

_—SHOOM_

Geez, what the fuck?! He can shoot lasers into his blind spots? Actually, I just got shot! Does he even _have_ blind spots?!

"You've got a hitchhiker, Bro," a tired-sounding voice slurs.

Oh, Sleeping Beauty has awoken. Laserdream is still slumped over her younger brother's shoulder, her hand limply aimed in my direction. The blood running from her forehead seems to have mostly dried and her eyes are clear as they focus upon me.

Gulp.

Smile and wave?

Her expression suddenly sharpens and slumped shoulders stiffen as she raises her hand once again.

My world is now pink.

Ah! Sorry! I'd love to be friends but I don't want to be Befriended! Not like this!

_**Red**_. Oh fuck, I never managed to get rid of the damage from that rock missile, did I? _**Red red red**_. Phew, her lasers aren't that strong. Maybe she's worried about about overshooting since I'm right on top of her brother.

_**Dark-red**_. _**Magenta**_. _**Maroon**_. _**Grape**_. _**Purple**_. Holy crap, she can fire those fast, I need to get out of here! But I'm not leaving empty-handed! I'm nomming this boy if it's the last thing I do!

Take this!

_**Raisin**_.

Owww! Time Out!

Hmm, stuck in free-fall. I must have been dislodged somehow. Laserdream's hand is right there, okay she slapped me off. Strange, I thought my grip was better than that.

There are little lightsabres coming out from her fingers—wait she can _do _that?! Holy crap I'm missing parts of my legs!

Ow! That's—can I even still _walk?!_

Argh, you're not getting the best of me, lady! What can I see from here?

A whole lot of blue, mixed in with a whole lot of pink and red. Not very helpful.

Nothing I can Blink to—not with that shield blurring the outside world—which I really need to do fast and get rid of this built up damage before I tank any more beam spam. I can see Shielder's leg out of the corner of my eye, I might be able to…

Okay, semi-workable plan! Time In!

Sticky Threads!

A wave of gossamer strands slam into Laserdream's hand and begin gluing it to her brother's back. She'll probably break free sooner than later, but this buys me some time.

Grappling Threads!

A new line connects me to Shielder's calf and I quickly reel myself in. I'm fairly sure spandex is still too thick for my fangs to dig into, but I've already got something to take care of that for me!

Ptoo—Corrosive Bolt! It sounds much more hygienic this way.

_Hissssssssss._

"Ow! Fuck, get it off already!"

The material of Shielder's outfit sizzles away, revealing lightly burned skin. Even as the leg jerks from his own pain reflexes, my Grappling Thread keeps me on-target and I close in to sink my fangs into my prize!

NOM!

_"Incoming!"_

I have just enough time to notice the cobalt aura surrounding the immediate vicinity poof out of existence before there is a brief, but intense flash of light. At almost the same time, something _slams _into me and sends me flying off into a new ballistic arc.

_**Black**_. That one _hurt!_ Eject! Eject!

Blink!

With little to no reference points available, I instead reappear in mid air and quickly take the opportunity to reset my damage counter. Old-me _explodes _in a flash of pink light—no longer able to contain the energies from the many lasers and the strike that finally separated me from the New Wave capes.

Of my former-mes, nothing seems to be left on their respective buildings but impact craters. Not even the me with the poor choice in 90's pop culture seems to have been spared.

There's another flash of light, too fast for me to react to if I hadn't already been hyped up from combat, and I have a brief glimpse of two hands rushing towards each other with me caught in between them.

No squishy! _NO SQUISHY!_

I have just enough time for one response. I could Blink away to a new destination or take a moment and Time Out to think of a new plan. Ultimately, however, _I just don't want to be squished._ Not again. That hindbrain reflex overrides all other conscious thought and I _act_.

_YOU!_

I throw out one leg in a warding gesture.

_SHALL NOT!_

Two more join it.

_PASS!_

Four more legs spread out as if to push away the imminent blow.

…

I need better ingrained reactions.

_CLAP_

White.

White? That's a new colour. Does that mean—wait, there's no accompanying buzz, so it's not any sort of damage I can recognise. But I'm seeing… white? Am I dead? Was I a good spider?

My eyes peek out from the final limb I'd hid behind to stare at the dark clad figure now holding me. Or rather, holding a thin, white globe with me at its centre. A thick visor and helmet hides most of their face, but I get the impression that they are completely flabbergasted at the result of their attack.

Eh-heh… I guess it's safe to assume I didn't get flight powers.

Again.

_Not squished._

Somehow, I can't bring myself to be upset about it this time.

Then the figure's jaw sets and a bright glow erupts from thin channels along their helmet and outfit. I now recognise my new opponent as Battery, a Protectorate hero, shortly before the lines on her costume flare once more and she _squeezes_.

_K-chik~_

NOPE!

_C-crack~_

Blink!

_BOOM _

That is quite the shockwave, if I do say so myself. I think I can literally see the air rippling from between her hands to accompany a sound akin to shattering glass.

Rest in pieces, old-me.

Now she's flapping her hands and frantically looking about, as if searching for something to scrape the remains off—hey if you wanted to keep your hands clean you shouldn't have squished me. Just saying.

I'd like to enjoy this moment of schadenfreude longer, but I seem to be unable to hold on to this wall that I've blinked to.

Oh that's right, because _all of my foot claws got cut off!_

Fun fact: spiders have tiny hairs-slash-claws at the tips of their legs which they use to grab hold onto surfaces. They do not, unfortunately, have any such gripping aids when said leg tips have been shortened by several millimeters due to Jedi manicure tools! Thanks for that, Laserdream!

… Who looks to be breaking free of the threads I wrapped around her and her brother. Battery, who seems to have resigned herself to the mess and is looking around for me. Me, who is currently plummeting several storeys because I can no longer wall climb!

And where Battery is, her partner can't possibly be far behind. I'm tempted to wonder to his location but then I know—in that precise moment—he's gonna come out of nowhere and punt me into the horizon or something.

…Well, fuck, now I'm curious. Where _is _Assault?

…

Hey, whaddya know? I'm not being punted yet.

Screw it. Stealth has long since failed. Where's Rune and Photon Mom? I'd gladly take two to one odds over this clusterfuck.

"...is freeing Manpower from his… restraints now," Battery is saying to the New Wave capes, her head still swiveling back and forth in a search pattern. "What else can you tell me about what we're facing?"

Eenie, meenie, miney… let's go… thataway.

Blink!

"That there's just no end to them!" Laserdream growls as the rooftop in front of me is pockmarked with a flurry of laser strikes.

Yeah, no way. I'll take my chances with the rocks. Time to pull an Oni Lee.

Blink! Blinkblinkblinkblinkblinkblink…

* * *

_**a/n**—coming back from a vacation where i got a lot of posts to spacebattles, but apparently ffnet has shit for mobile posting so i was unable to cross post here. gonna space these out so they dont flood the place, but yeah, if you want the latest (unedited) snippets head over to the sb thread. it also has nifty formatting tricks ffnet also does not allow (grrr)_


	15. Spider 12

**Spider 12**

You know the phrase, 'caught between a rock and a hard place?' It refers to the dilemma of choosing between two very unpleasant actions, with alternatives few and far between.

It actually originated from some classical mythology where a sailor had to choose between dashing his ship against a rocky cliffside or sailing straight into a treacherous whirlpool.

Time has long since brought the idiom into popular culture and a multitude of metaphorical situations could stand in for either of the choices—but for me right now, we're going back to its roots.

In the short time since I left the two alone, the battle between the E88's Rune and New Wave's Photon Mom has escalated somewhat. I'm certain that some connoisseur of cape combat culture could classify cases of cunning or conniving in their clash, but unfortunately I am a nominal newbie to this sort of thing.

Rune is still levitating chunks of rock and throwing them. Photon Mom is still shooting lasers. To my inexpert eye, they are just doing it _more_.

Both are airborne at this point, jockeying and manoeuvring in circles around each other. But where Photon Mom is a blur of light trails that spiral through the air, spraying coherent energy at her foe, Rune is a relatively immobile turret protected by concentric rings of rubble that intercept all attacks and launch themselves forward in retaliation.

The whole thing resembles a whirlpool of sorts… made up _of_ rocks. I wonder how that fits into the saying.

And I really, _really_ do not want to get in between those two.

Thus my dilemma: do I charge in headlong and risk en_squish_ment at every leap or turn from sheer collateral damage? Or do I go back and face three to five angry capes actively gunning for me?

Third option, I could just turn tail and continue to do the Oni Lee. But something has occurred to me. Something _terrible_.

Speaking of Oni Lee, it seems that he's been the _only_ villain I have nom'd. Since then I've been a bad little power thief towards at least four Wards and two independent heroes.

This is bad! This is _really _bad!

I must look like a villain right now! No way!

Now I _have_ to commit to an assault on Rune or there will be no shot at clearing my name!

Okay… it's okay. I'm okay (_Iamtotally_fucked_rightnow_). What do I have to work with?

Rune has an asteroid belt's worth of rubble orbiting her and intercepting any lasers that come nearby. Said rocks will often shatter after each hit, but that just leaves her with greater quantities to shoot out in convoluted arcs that snake their way through the air in an attempt to hit the senior New Wave flyer.

Photon Mom, for her part, dodges what she can, shields what she can't, and retaliates with a veritable light show split evenly between the few stones that make it past her defenses and at Rune herself.

And the whole thing rinses, repeats, and kicks itself up yet another notch.

Between my jumping and various threads I have some decent manoeuvrability myself. I lack innate durability but between my newly acquired—and untested—shields as well as the ability to defer chunks of damage (up to a point) for later, I have better-than-even odds of being able to survive a trip through that smashy, grindy funhouse.

Oh God, I just told myself the odds. I'm doomed.

Once I'm inside, however, things get a bit trickier. I'm pretty sure Photon Mom heard the earlier warning Shielder gave when he was intercepting Laserdream, even if he was horribly misinterpreting… everything. Therefore she's most likely going to assume that I am an enemy, which I'm totally not! Honest!

I'm not certain whether or not Rune has noticed that I exist but if she does, experience has told me she'll probably try to set me on fire anyway. I'm not sure how; maybe she's got some flint or sparky rocks hidden somewhere and I'll be assaulted by fiery meteors.

I should probably define my success conditions.

Best case: I assist in taking Rune down, nomming her in the process. New Wave will be so pleased with my help that we become the best of friends and they let me nom the rest of them, getting me flight powers.

Hmm, even I think that's overly optimistic.

Maybe they'll let me just nom Glory Girl?

Okay, _next_ best thing: I take down Rune and Photon Mom doesn't even notice I was there. Although in this case I'd settle for her simply not shooting at me.

Bad case: Both of them see me and try to set me on fire. Together. Because all the established kids never like a newcomer trying to lift themselves out of obscurity—_noI'mnotspeakingfrompriorexperienceandevenifIwasIam_not_bitteraboutit._

Worst case: All of New Wave plus all of the Protectorate come and squish me.

Okay, I feel better now! The worst case is never likely to happen!

_Poke poke._

Okay, so… plan?

To be honest, I don't think I have time for the stealthy approach. Laserdream and Shielder have to have recovered by now and if they link up with Battery—or worse, Manpower plus Assault and Battery—then any attempt at keeping it slow and steady just gives them more time to…

Oh my God, I _just_ got it. _'Assault and Battery!'_ That is hilarious! How did they possibly get away with that?! Then again, this is the same Protectorate that allowed 'Clockblocker' so maybe the person in charge has a really great sense of humour.

Ahem.

Anyhow, stealth is probably a no-go. So the new plan, then, would be going the exact opposite route. Shock and awe. Going loud. Spiderling rush, kekekekeke.

I've long since figured out that my clones can follow a preset series of commands. Things ranging from, 'keep walking forward until you hit a wall' to 'wait several seconds and then shoot Corrosive Bolts continuously in this general direction.' Time to see how much initiative they have.

I'm gonna rush Rune _en masse_. Since she's in the air, the way won't be easy. So each clone will be given a priority list.

1\. Nom Rune.  
2\. Jump (Parkour!) towards the closest rock between self and Rune.  
3\. Grappling Thread to the nearest rock if jumping doesn't work.  
4\. Bubble Shield if anything comes close to self.

I'm gonna be circling the battlefield as fast as I can Blink whilst giving out those sets of commands. Once I feel I have enough decoys in play, I'll insert myself into the swarm and we'll have a bit of a race!

Which, by the way, I fully plan to win because I'm a cheating cheater who cheats and won't be letting any of my clones use Blink. So _nyeh!_

Here we go! Staaaaart!

BLINKBlinkblinkblinkblinkblinkblinkblinkʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋ…

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Okay, so, what have we learned?

Firstly, my clones can't actually process a priority list and are just following each command I gave them on repeat. This means they're chomping at the air in front of them, leaping to their doom, web slinging away from their doom, flashing a shield for a brief moment, then starting the whole thing over again.

The net result is making Rune's own asteroid field look like it suddenly _exploded_ however, as the light from the shields' activations are creating a flickering, glittery starfield as each individual clone completes its jumps.

Secondly, not all of them have the proper leg-eye coordination for this mission—either mistimed jumps or mis-aimed threads are leaving scores of clones to play Frogger across the streets and buildings, each of them moving in stuttering hops towards Rune's epicentre. Which also leads to:

Thirdly, I completely forgot about the leftover mob of gangbangers. I'm surprised they stuck around this long, to be honest. Almost all of the pistol carriers are out of ammunition after having wasted clip after clip trying to bring Photon Mom's shields—and herself—down. The poor saps stuck with melee weapons had absolutely no reason to stay since they couldn't affect the fight in any way, but ohhh boy they are laughing now since they have targets they can meaningfully interact with.

Well, they're actually screaming, but that's pretty close to laughter.

Also, I would like it stated for the record that _I totally called it_. Some enterprising members had Molotov cocktails hidden on their person somewhere and began using them with abandon once the sky began raining spiderlings.

And yes, a few of them _did_ set their own companions on fire. High-eight! Leg bump! I am a _prophet!_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Meanwhile, the battle for aerial dominance has taken quite the turn. Photon Mom has since disengaged from the fight entirely, instead falling back to hover protectively near Shielder and Laserdream, who have indeed arrived with two Protectorate heroes plus a hot hunk of muscle in tight, blue spandex who could only be Manpower.

Most of the newcomers have strangely queasy expressions on the visible portions of their faces, though the black and red Assault seems somewhat put out for some reason. He turns to Battery and makes a strange motion, taking one hand curled halfway to a fist and slowly levering it back and forth between his chest and his face, some sort of coded hand signal which has the ground bound heroine raising her arm to slap the back of his helmet.

Rune, on the other hand, has definitely not missed the incoming horde. I was incorrect, in that she did not possess any means to produce fire with her rocks, but that does not keep her from trying. A simple alteration to their orbits has turned the formerly placid, spiraling rock field into a pinballing, crushing mess of sparking rocks competing with the spiderlings for luminance in the night sky.

I've honestly lost count of how many clones I made for the initial 'Ling Rush but my more advanced repertoire of mobility skills has brought me somewhere in the middle of the pack. I've managed to keep my own approach relatively low-key with judicious use of Time Stops and only flickering a shield when I am in imminent threat of being squished from incoming shrapnel. Even those brief flashes are lost within the horde, so I doubt anyone has noticed me specifically.

I should write a survival handbook. Safety in numbers. How to lose yourself in a crowd. Also, never cross a busy street without looking both ways and having a personal defense power to avoid any murderous boulders.

Still, I think I may have lost the race. Some of my clones must be very gifted cheaters indeed. Rune is currently flailing on her Rock Prime, snapping her robes this way and that in an attempt to shake off several spiderlings already nomming at the fabrics. None of them appear to be moving beyond that, however, content to simply nibble at her costume instead of trying to crawl in and get to her skin.

I _knew_ I'd forgotten a step! I guess I have to do everything myself!

Rune can't even escape to the ground, since an even greater horde has gathered below her and small but growing circle of death has formed from the clones who failed the jumping puzzle.

The unpowered mob seems to have dispersed at last. Good job, mes! The streets are safe for yet another day!

All this is very distracting and a distraction is all I need! I'm three jumps away from claiming my spoils!

Two jumps!

One!

PARKOU—

**_BLACK_**.


	16. Dreamer

**Dreamer**

They tell me that today is a Bad Day. To 'Them', that means I am lost; that I respond poorly to outside stimulus. They mean well, don't get me wrong. They cared enough for me to break me free and let me loose on the 'Outside World.' They gave me the next best thing to a family—and as people have always said, 'You can't choose your family.' But…

But, really, would it have killed them to just ask for my opinion when they first took me out? Honestly, the Outside World is so _boring_, They can't possibly expect me to pay attention when I'm out there, when I'd much rather be in _here_.

If anything, today is a _Good_ Day. Today is the temple ruins, lost in a forgotten jungle. Today wild trees and vines grow and curl and spread across the forest floor, and when there is not enough room for more forest, I _make_ more room.

The temple, with an architecture unlike any I have seen in the Outside, sprawls out in bits and pieces. It is far too lovely for me to grasp all at once, so my mind fills in what it can, when it can. Where it can.

The corridor just past the door becomes the Grand Hallway, with its tapestries and elaborate columns. From the door itself expands a winding staircase that criss-crosses through space like an M.C. Escher drawing. My room becomes a wrecked auditorium where the jungle intrudes—a massive, fallen tree creating the main breach in the walls—allowing the snapping vines and twisted flowers to bloom within and give the space a breathtaking beauty never imagined by its original designers.

I can feel at peace, just sitting here and _experiencing_ what the Inside has to offer. Every time I come here there is always, _always_ something new to see. It makes me want to reach out to grasp what I can, the stories only I can hear or the songs only I can see.

Sometimes, however, there are days I don't see what I want. The Asylum, with its padded walls promising naught but lies of comfort and understanding. The Labyrinth, a nightmare of never knowing my place in the world—where I am, much less where I am going. And the less said about The Bad Place, the better.

On _those_ days—those 'good days,' according to Them—I don't care nearly so much if They want to move me, to tear me away from my worlds. To recentre myself Outside. Conversation helps to distract me from the places I don't wish to acknowledge. It helps that many of my family are genuinely interesting people in their own rights. Some of them have fascinating stories of their own, fueling the creation of even more exciting places.

But the worlds Inside don't go away completely. I can't ever stop seeing them, and I rarely get to choose what I experience. Sometimes They help me remember, reminding me of places I've once visited or shared, triggering hidden memories of places I've only seen once in a blue moon.

If there is a downside, it's that all of my stories are dead ones. Civilisations eons past, cautionary tales, and long forgotten lore. There is no discourse, no dialogue, no drama. They are, one and all, dead.

Sometimes intruders come Inside voluntarily. Most of the time it is my family, here in yet another attempt to draw me Outside out of misguided sympathy. Sometimes I ignore Them, sometime I'll humour Them.

Sometimes intruders were always here, within the boundaries of my world as I shape it and explore it. If asked nicely I can remove them from the Inside. Not everyone can bask in the sheer joy of these worlds as long as I can, after all.

Sometimes an intruder is a surprise. I usually do not suffer these ones for long, as often times they are bumbling fools who wreak havoc Inside. A flaming dragon belongs in a world of fire, or at least one with a castle involved. It has no place in a land of peaceful worship. Knights in shining armour shouldn't be in temples or dying forests, they should be on rolling plains or hills of swords. Such intrusions break the narrative, shatter the setting, and make the world chaotic and difficult to hold on to. These intruders must be hunted down and _purged_.

Or at the very least, hit over the head with a statue from the setting they are ruining.

One could make a case for the drug addict in The Bad Place, however. Still, he warrants immediate retaliation anyhow because I simply do not like him.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Today was a Good Day. I had my temple, I had my jungle, and I was in the process of changing the boring, ordinary window into a wondrous, glittering collage. Still, something was… _off_ about. Something kept it from being _perfect_.

_CRASH_

Ah, I see now. It was _too_ perfect. It didn't fit. How could mere glass survive events that had laid waste to the timeless strength of stone?

Speaking of stone, the rock that has so rudely, yet pleasingly, destroyed my window appears to be part of the temple spires. I'm not certain if it was always so, or if my world had overwritten it once it was inside the boundary. It doesn't really matter, since something far more interesting has caught my attention.

It appears to be a spider; the poor thing looking to be simultaneously lacerated from its entry and crushed as if the stone had rolled over its body.

My worlds bring me many things, but never any living creatures. It is a somewhat sad existence when everything around me is ruined and noone else to share the experience with.

Suddenly the world seems to shift, as between one eyeblink and the next the spider appears to be completely restored.

That's… rather odd, to be honest. My worlds have never returned anything to life before.

The creature, for its own part, does not appear curious about its surroundings. No looking around, no sign of hesitance. I suppose that's an animal thing, I can remember being lost with wonder for hours on end when my worlds first began manifesting.

Instead the spider simply totters over to a nearby tree, wobbling as if drunk even with eight legs to stand upon. Once it reaches the trunk it begins to spin itself a new home.

I can't help but feel something like a kinship to this remarkable creature. Here I am, creating worlds Inside in an effort to avoid the tedium of the Outside. Yet even out there, a creature exists that can build up a new world of its own no matter where it may fall.

It feels like a blink of an eye, but surely must be longer, for spinning a web so tightly woven as to be almost completely opaque must be a process that takes hours. But it's so fascinating it barely feels like any time has passed. Eventually the spider is completely hidden away, sheltered beneath the dead leaves and vines that make up this place.

I'm stretched out across the grass at the base of the tree. Still watching, still wondering when Melanie comes to visit. The ruined temple has all but stopped imposing itself on the Outside, as I'm far too busy sustaining this tree and its precious occupant.

Melanie says a few words, though I hardly pay them any notice. They are firm but kind, questioning but unhurried. There is none of the anxiousness that usually comes if I've overreached into the lower levels of the Palanquin, so I assume it's nothing pressing and continue to allow the Inside to roam freely.

She does bark out a question when she sees the window and the rock, kicking at the ground briefly. But it has nothing to do with me, so I ignore it. After a while she leaves and returns with Gregor, who also seems to express an odd interest in the masonry of the rock. The two banter back and forth with each other for several minutes before they leave me to my contemplation in peace.

I slowly reach out a hand to prod the webbing. It feels firm… dry somehow. It doesn't give way or break apart into a multitude of sticky strands. It's unlike anything I've ever seen before.

I can't help but laugh in sheer joy. My world always gives me something new to wonder about.


	17. Spider 13

_(a/n)—obligatory disclaimer: please do not try to give spiders headpats. with very few exceptions, this freaks them out and they'll either run off or try to nom you, which is not nearly so fun irl._

* * *

**Spider 13**

A sharp sound wakes me from my slumber and I leap out of bed to—ow.

H-home sweet home. Still with that sturdy roof, I see.

Home does feel cramped right now, and not just because I'm sharing space with another cast-off skin. The structure itself is half-collapsed, as if whatever had previously anchored the sides have been removed or vanished.

As luck would have it, the section of the roof I'd smacked into was the _only_ surface that remained taut, the rest having bowed in from the lack of tension in the guy-lines. I immediately set to cutting my way free from my abode, although nomming on the threads metaphorically sets my stomach grumbling. I wonder how much energy I'd used up in my latest stunt.

That's right, I'm not fat, I am storing energy for future encounters!

The sharp sound from before repeats itself and I pause in my chewing, half-emerged from my temporary domicile and finally take the chance to look around.

Uhm…

This is not where I went to sleep last night. I have fuzzy, yet distinct memories of a failed attack on Rune that got me punted across the city (wondering about Assault jinxed me, I _knew_ it!) and out into the forests beyond the city limits. I most definitely did not land myself into a dormitory, or else I would have taken greater care to not make up a Home in what appears to be a young teen's—or a college student's—room if the computer setup, the posters, the bookshelves…

"That's my bed," a horrified-sounding voice whispers.

…and the bed (thank you) are anything to go by. Oh, my bed is a _literal_ bed.

_Stomp_ _stomp_ _stomp._

No wonder it feels so comfy.

Wait.

Waitwaitwait.

I glance towards the room's only entryway (not counting the giant hole in the window, which I can only assume was _my_ entryway). A young woman in her late teens or early adulthood is frozen in the doorframe, her unusually pale skin contrasting with the mess of freckles across her nose and the brown curls about her face.

From the way she's glaring at me… ooh boy, I'm about to be set on fire again, aren't I? Hold up! Quick check: no matches, no flamethrower, no suspicious bottles of alcohol, phew. Signs point to 'not yet'. So why do I still feel uneasy?

"That's _my_ _bed!_" she repeats instead, her voice rising into a half-shout. She turns her head to the side, "Elle?!"

Elle? There's another girl in—_pat_—ooh that feels nice.

_Pat_ _pat._

I belatedly register a finger prodding softly at the top of my head, the repetitive pressure somehow soothing despite the intrusive nature of the action. I trace the finger to a hand half-swallowed in an oversized sweater, the garment itself leading to a towheaded girl crouched to be level with the mattress. Her eyes, though apparently focused upon myself, seem to be curiously distracted.

"E-Elle?" the first girl asks again, nonplussed by this behavior.

"I thought you'd like it," Elle says to nothing in particular—wait, is she talking to me? "I always feel better when the others do this to me."

Is _she_ talking to _me?!_

_Pat_ _pat. _

_Heee_, this feels good~

"…Are you talking to a spider?" the girl in the doorway mutters. "You know what? Nevermind, this isn't even the weirdest thing I've seen you do. I'm getting Faultline."

Good feelings gone.

Fault-who now?

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Faultline, it seems, is a rather severe-looking woman who really rocks the office lady look, if an office lady looked like she was one bad day away from kicking over her desk and stabbing you in the throat. There's probably more I should be concerned about, especially given that she's accompanied by a very large and… translucent man, but…

_Pat_ _pat. _

…but I'm too busy receiving headpats.

"Labyrinth," she says from her position at the head of the group, the brown-haired girl hiding behind her shoulder. "Elle, please come over here."

The girl in the oversized sweater immediately scoops me up into one hand and turns towards the doorway. I honestly can't tell how old she is; her facial structure appears to be well-formed but the oversized clothing and her demeanor make her seem years younger.

She's probably young. I mean, wow, she must be _tiny_; I think I take up nearly her entire palm.

Faultline's hand twitches, as if caught in the motion bringing it up to her face before she returns it to her side. "That's not what I—can you leave the spider where it is?"

"…I like it," Elle replies blithely, using her free hand to continue her heavenly ministrations.

_Pat_ _pat. _

Ahh, bliss~

"Well, at least she's responsive and can answer questions," Faultline says to the ceiling. "Small favours."

"It is a good day," Translucent Man agrees in a deep, accented voice. "If I may?" He waits a beat before the woman gives a sharp nod. "Elle, do you know where that came from?"

"…The window."

"Indeed. Do you know how many of them there are?"

Noo, the headpats have stopped! You evil man, you are intruding on something _holy!_

Elle raises her hand slightly. "…This one?"

The three people standing in the doorway trade glances with each other. Then the apparent leader shrugs and turns away to face the hallway. "Five minutes," she says with the cadence of an order before she marches off.

"Miss Emily," the large man rumbles. "Could you escort Miss Elle to the briefing room? There are things I am needing to gather."

"In a bit," the brown-haired girl bites out before she shoulders past him. She walks with stiff legs over to a dresser near my Home—her bed (_sorryaboutthat_)—and rummages around for a few moments. She straightens up with a gas mask held in her hand. My eyes might be playing tricks on me, but smoke seems to curl out of her mouth as she spits out her next sentence.

"I need to _take_ _care_ of the bed sheets."

Meep. So _that's_ why I was feeling uneasy.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

I've heard of the minor gang known as 'Faultline's Crew' but not much beyond the fact that they existed. What little I know from word of mouth is that they're mercenaries, ostensibly a completely neutral party loyal only to their paychecks. However, since they are almost always hired out by existing gangs, the PRT has them generally classed as a villainous organisation.

Their roster apparently consists of Faultline, who's traded in her blouse and dress pants for dark robes and a welding mask. Emily, decked out in a dark, glossy jumpsuit of some kind paired with the gas mask I saw her grab earlier. Mr. Translucent Man, who is clad in the same thing he was wearing previously, an ordinary blazer and little else. Some guy, who looks like a west coast surfer that went way in too deep with the spray-on tan, wearing a pair of slacks with a hole cut out for his… _wtfhehasa**tail**_. Finally, Elle—or Labyrinth, as she's referred to in this more formal setting—who is swimming within an oversized green robe with intricate lines making up dizzying patterns in the fabric. She wears a full-face mask with no apparent eye holes and even more patterns across it.

The crew is seated around a large conference table with myself at the centre. The two strange-looking men don't bother with concealing their faces, unlike the women, but somehow I don't think it's due to some weird cape-gender disparity thing going on. Nevertheless it's not hard to tell that all five of them are staring right at me… along with a squished-me and a hollow-me.

No, it is not creepy at all. Not. At. All. Can I get more headpats?

"I don't get it," Surfer Dude drawls. "It's a spider, why not just turn Spitfire loose on it?"

Fuck you too, brah.

Labyrinth slumps in her seat at his remark and he visibly blanches and backpedals.

Faultline sighs and leans over slightly to rub the girl's head through her hooded robes, which seems to brighten her mood considerably.

I am not jealous. Not at all. The poor girl looked like she needed it.

"Aside from Labyrinth's _attachment_," Faultline says, "There are several curiosities that need to be addressed."

She jabs a finger at squished-me. "First, these thing are not natural spiders. There's plenty of physiological distinctions, but the main thing I'd like to point out? It's still in _one_ _piece_."

"So?" Emily—Spitfire asks. "I've stepped on a few bugs or squashed spiders in napkins before and whatnot. It's not like they fall apart that easily."

"Have you ever heard of a bug break _through_ a window and remain intact? Without first splattering all over it?" Whilst the others mulled over that rhetorical question, Faultline presses on. "Second, Labyrinth mentioned that her power 'brought it back to life.' Now, granted, there's still a lot we don't know about capes, but they usually don't spontaneously obtain a completely new ability. And she's been with us long enough that I think we would have noticed if she could do anything along those lines."

She shifts her finger towards hollow-me. "This, on the other hand…"

"You are suggesting that the restoration ability may be coming from… the spider?" The Big Guy murmurs thoughtfully. He suddenly straightens in his seat. "Ah, this is why you asked of me to look it over."

"That's where I'm getting to, Gregor," Faultline says. "You're essentially correct. There is another precedence that could explain this entity before us."

Now it's Surfer Dude's turn to have an epiphany. "You're talking about us. About Monstrous Capes."

Hey, speak for yourself, buddy. I am rocking this spider gig, ain't nothing monstrous about me!

"Right in one, Newter," Faultline praises him. "We have before us an individual with powers: a parahuman—even if that particular individual lacks the 'human' aspect." She turns back to Gregor. "So, did you find anything?"

The big man shakes his head, "I have examined all three specimens, but found no traces of markings similar to mine own. Or Newter's, for that matter."

Uh, of course I won't have any strange markings. I'm fairly certain I've managed to avoid the part of my rebellious teenage phase where I get blackout drunk and wake up in a tattoo parlour. Any markings I have are completely natural!

"When you both joined, you asked me to look into a few things," Faultline reminds the room. "I've outsourced some of it to a private investigator so I don't have all of the facts yet. But even the preliminary reports I've received seem consistent so I'm confident about this—pretty much all of the known… irregular capes have that sigil of yours tucked away _somewhere_."

"So if it doesn't have the tattoo, then what?" Newter asks. "Maybe instead of a transformed human, it's a transformed spider?"

"This is all we need," Spitfire mutters. "Spiders that can trigger. _Parabugs_. Can we escape the universe yet?"

I can what now? What's a Trigger?

"Is it sapient?" Gregor muses. "Or even sentient?"

Hey, I'm right here! Why don't you just _ask_ me? And if I could figure out what the difference is between whatever you just said I could show it to _your_ _face!_

I suddenly notice some movement from Labyrinth. Glancing over, I see her making minute gestures with her hand and skitter over in the hopes of—

_Pat_ _pat. _

Awww yissssss.

"Well, it's certainly well-trained," Faultline observes dryly. "But I've got an idea. Gregor, can you retrieve it and place it back in the centre of the table?"

"Of course. Miss Labyrinth?"

Nooo, my headpats! Have at thee, you fiend!

"Watch out!" Newter shouts, half rising from his chair and reaching out towards me.

I pause in the act of biting at the hand that is most definitely not feeding me, staring warily at the orange finger about to poke me. I'm not sure I like the way the light glistens off his fingertip.

Mrrgh, you win this one, Surfer Dude. This time.

Faultline holds up a hand. "Call it simple curiosity, but there's something I'd like to test." She stands up, reaching into a pouch at her hip and extracting a small, flat rectangle. She thumbs a small switch on the side, taps at the flat surface for a moment, then places it on the table in front of me.

A bright, cheerful collection of icons set against an image of a mountain range greets me, a standard launching page for the latest version of a popular smartphone operating system.

"Ah," Gregor says happily. "The mission in Utah. I am remembering the sights most fondly as well."

"Oh hush," Faultline says. There is an odd quality to her voice that the helmet prevents me from being able to identify. "Here, let's see what it can do with this."

W-wait is this for me? I know this! Well, not _know_-know since I've never owned a mobile myself but…

Quick, where's the app I need? Where is it?!

Ahah! Oh my God _it_ _works!_ Non-pressure sensitive haptic technology, I love you!

Now then… _P. H. O. Dot. C. O—_

Abruptly the phone is yoinked out of my reach. Nooo! This is worse than being denied headpats! There's so much I need to _know!_

"Okaay," the woman drawls. "Not _quite_ what I was expecting but I, for one, would consider that to be a fairly definitive test result."

Gregor rumbles in apparent amusement. Newter is more vocal in his laughter. Spitfire just looks queasy.

Labyrinth seems to be focused on some far off distance, though her posture suggests contentment.

The smartphone is placed in front of me once again, this time with a note-taking app loaded onto the screen.

"Let's try this again," Faultline says. "Do you know who you are?"

I crawl forward until my front six limbs straddle the device, my last pair of legs keeping my balance. I take one last glance at the expectant looks around the table. If I had knuckle joints, I'd probably be cracking them.

_Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap…_

{OHMYGODTHISISAMAZINGICANTALKICANWELLICANTREALLYTALKBUTYOUCANUNDERSTANDMEIMNOTALONEANYMORECANYOUTELLMEWHEREIAMCANYOUTAKEMEHOMECANYOUTELLMYDADIMSORRYCANIGETMOREHEADPATS}

…

Silence reigns across the table.

"…You left the caps lock on," Newter finally quips.

Labyrinth obligingly reaches over and stretches out with one finger.

_Pat_ _pat. _

Yeeessssssss~

Faultline lifts the welding mask's visor and drops her head into both hands. "I suddenly have a _lot_ more questions."

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

I regret everything, this place is not the paradise I was tricked into believing it would be.

I look up as Gregor pads into the room, a large brown paper bag all but hidden in one massive fist. He reaches in and pulls out a pair of wrapped sandwiches. "Dinner has arrived," he intones.

Emily waves a hand from where she is sprawled against her bed, reading a paperback novel. The wave transitions smoothly into a snap as a sandwich is tossed in her direction.

Gregor turns towards my side of the room, "Miss Elle?"

No response. Elle simply sways from side to side slightly, her eyes flickering blankly around the room.

Apparently I've been lured in under a false pretense. Elle is not the Goddess of Headpats. Or if she is, the Gods are cruel and fickle beings. Apparently her level of activity the other day had a less than one-in-ten chance of recurring. In the other ninety percent of her daily life, she was like this: listless and lost in some sort of fugue state.

Gregor quietly pads over and stops just out of arm's reach from the girl. "I have brought you food." He waits until her head inclines towards him before he steps forward and reaches for her hand, dropping another sandwich into her palm and wrapping her fingers around it.

It was _this_ state that was routine for the rest of Faultline's Crew, as Emily literally had a ten-foot pole beside her bed. She would use it to periodically prod the smaller girl to keep her ability from encroaching on her side of the room. Apparently her power tended to expand if she stayed in one place for too long and even a minor readjustment of her position was enough to inhibit the process.

Gregor watches the girl until she meekly pulls her hand back and mechanically, but steadily, begins chomping down. Only then does he turn back towards me.

And that's the worst thing! No more headpats! After a quick discussion during which I'd proudly informed the crew of just how awesome my powers were, Faultline had declared me to be a _precious_ _resource_.

* * *

_"__...You can do _what_ now?"_

* * *

Telling the group—in no uncertain terms—that nobody was to handle me beyond the bare minimum required for transport. They'd even forcibly separated me from Elle when she had offered up her finger for verification purposes.

I mean, I'm glad they're taking my personal safety seriously, but did they really need to stick me in a _box_ for my protection?

Meanies!

Gregor reaches into his paper bag and pulls out a box of crickets. _Crickets!_ I mean, I guess it's better than dirty, filthy rats, but what about my pigeon-chicken?

Emily blanches and pulls away from her food. "You had that in the same bag?!"

"It was kept separate from the rest of the food, Miss Emily." He balances the box in his arm as he pulls out a smaller paper bag from within. "Never fear."

He finally turns towards me, "Miss Tee?"

* * *

_"__Do you remember who you are?"_

_{of course my name is t… ttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttttt…}_

_"Smart. You've just met us. You shouldn't trust strangers with your identity so easily."_

* * *

I wave listlessly from the inside of my terrarium. He obligingly bends back one corner of the thin mesh at the top and tips the box over, spilling dozens of crickets into the enclosure.

I don't even bother with pouncing, instead snapping out Sticky Threads and bringing in crickets one by one for me to chomp down on.

I have a 'room' of my own. Joy. I should be happy that I'm getting room service, right?

Haah, this sucks.

_Crunch_ _crunch._

Emily visibly shudders and shoves a pair of headphones over her ears.

I waddle over to the end of the tank closer to the door, where an older-model mobile has been secured to the wall. I should ask if their secret base has any rat problems. I can offer to… check for them.

_Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap…_

_ERROR ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀxɪᴍᴜᴍ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʟɪᴍɪᴛ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴇxᴄᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇssᴀɢᴇs ᴛᴏ 160 ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ᴏʀ ғᴇᴡᴇʀ._

Grrr…

_Taptaptaptaptaptaptap… _

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

{i want to go home}

My next audience with my host takes place in a new, smaller box with another mobile taped to the wall that serves as my portable transport. Kind of like my own personal palanquin—_Iseewhatyoudidtherelady_.

"You know why we can't do that." Back in her office lady getup, Faultline doesn't look up from her paperwork. I didn't even know mercs needed this much bookkeeping. "It's as much to protect your original identity from us as well as your loved ones."

{fuck the unwritten rules iwish youd never told me about them ineed to tell my dad}

"Aside from the issue of ou—of _your_ safety, I'd like to remind you whom you are dealing with. Yes, I have a vested interest in helping out 'Monstrous Capes' as the public refers to them. But I don't do anything for free. I'm a _mercenary_."

I wave one leg back towards Gregor. I'd say he was looming menacingly in the background if he weren't so painfully _polite_ about it. {your helping bigguy and surferdude}

She winces at my unassailable logic. "Gregor and Newter are part of my team, yes. But they're still both paying me for any personal pet projects they want the crew as a whole to follow up on."

{and L how soon can she be fixed and give me headpats}

Faultline's hands still for a brief moment before she resumes her work. "It's a work in progress. _Everyone_ chips in to help Elle.

"We're mercenaries, not monsters. No matter what we appear to be on the surface." She turns to look at me directly. "I'm not unsympathetic to your situation, but we can't afford to to do charity for anyone. You have no monetary resources as far as I'm aware of, correct?"

I bob my head.

"Then that leaves us with bartering favours. As it so happens, we have a fairly simple job lined up you might be able to assist us with. The client doesn't need it completed for a few months but there's nothing keeping us from doing it earlier."

Gregor grunts, "You are speaking of the Philadelphia request?"

Hey, hey… no. I throw my legs out in front of me to form an 'X'. NOMing on heroes is one thing, stealing from normies is another! I have standards!

{i wont be a villain}

Faultline arches an eyebrow at me.

{on purpose}

"You are under no obligation to help us," she reminds me. "Just as we have no obligations towards yourself either. That said," she crosses her arms and leans down against her desk, "even minor assistance would be worth the equivalent of a bus fare into the residential areas of the city."

I think I'd rather get headpats. But grrr, Crossing the city on foot hasn't been working out so far…

"So what'll it be?"


	18. Spider 14

**Spider 14**

Fun fact: spiders do not throw up. We are hyper efficient at absorbing nutrients from our meals. We don't even—well, _I_ don't but I'm not actually sure if other spiders actually—_whythehellamItalkingaboutthis?!_

Not-so-fun fact: spiders can still get car sick. Especially during multi-hour car trips where the driver is a woman possessed.

"The directions say to continue onto southbound ninety-five."

"Yeah, well everybody _knows _that, which is why the 95S will be bottlenecked to hell and back. I'm taking the 84."

"If my reading of this map is correct, that will add almost an hour to our journey."

"No, it's going to _save _us an hour that would be otherwise spent watching the grass grow on the side of the road."

And this is _not _helping! Kill me now. I shouldn't have eaten all of those crickets before we left.

"I do not believe this is the correct course to be taking."

"Do you want to drive? Because last I checked only one of us had a license."

"The others have the excuse of being too young. Besides that, I do not believe the DMV would appreciate my smile."

"Hey!" an offended voice pipes up, "I'm of age!"

The two speakers ignore her.

Are we there yet?

"Are we there yet?" an outrageously sunburned teen unknowingly echoes from the bench in front of me.

"We will arrive, when we arrive," comes the sage response from the front of the vehicle. The man adds insult to injury by twisting the knob on the control panel in front of him, denying those of us in the back our most precious resource.

"There's nothing wrong with your smile, but your hair could use some work," our driver snarks as she lounges in her own seat, one arm braced against the side window to prop her head up.

"I do not have any hair."

"Well, there's your problem then—hang on."

"You are not supposed to be answering that whilst operating a moving vehicle."

"Shut up for one second. Faultline here."

I wish I had super hearing. But nooo… I get to have motion sickn—_hrk_.

"Who are you again?"

"I'm hanging up now."

"I know all about it. I was there. Does this call have a purpose? I'm on the clock right now."

"I'm not _in _said town right now. Like I said, on the clock."

"You're not an information gatherer. You're a talentless hack who gets by with an _enormous _superpowered crutch and less than two actual brain cells to rub the clues together."

"I am _well _aware that there's someone in the market for that information. If you were half—no, _one-quarter_ as smart as you think you are, you'd have noticed the signs too. They aren't exactly being subtle. No, you're trying to dangle 'exclusive information' in an attempt to look intelligent and get one over me, but mostly trying to fish for more information using this call."

Melanie stabs at the screen with her thumb and pockets the mobile. "Now then. Where were we?"

"You were insulting my power-given good looks," Gregor says airily.

"Oh right, the DMV thing. Well then… "

Let me dieeeeee!

"Kill me… now," Emily also unknowingly echoes.

Elle stares out the window at the moving scenery and hums softly under her breath.

Heyyy can we get some A/C back here? This box is getting stuffy. Also, I'm getting hungry. When's our next food break?

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

When I allowed myself to get pulled into a super-villainous heist, I was sort of expecting something more _Italian Job_ and less… this.

Freedom—!

"Freedom! Glorious freedom!" cries an orange-skinned teen as he oozes out of the passenger van and onto the concrete floor.

This bastard keeps stealing my lines. I hate him already.

"That's disgusting," Emily grouses as she gingerly steps over him. "That poor floor has no idea where you've been." She swings out her arms for several rotations before she reaches back in and helps Elle out of the van behind her.

"Oof!"

Said girl unfortunately does not have the presence of mind to avoid stepping on the brightly coloured floor mat. Too, Emily may have assisted in directing her.

The van is currently parked within a darkened warehouse well aways from the populated streets of the city. Nearby is a tarp-covered pile, a thin coating of dust suggesting a lack of recent visitors. There is a rumbling from the far end of the empty structure as the rusted entrance is sealed behind us. The noise is loud, but far quieter than I would have expected from something that appears to be in such disrepair.

Lights flare into full luminance as the doors close, revealing a cavernous single room with blacked out windows. Two slamming doors herald the final two members of the crew. Gregor moves to the back and begins unloading the group's supplies, plus me. His efforts create a small pile beside one of the anchors tying the larger stack down.

I'm still in my 'traveling' box. I think they're taking the definition of _precious cargo_ a bit too literally.

Faultline rounds the front of the van and posts her hands on her hips, staring down at the prone cape. "Newter, get up. You and I are doing recon."

Stealy McStealface groans and reluctantly crawls to his feet, beginning a quick series of stretches and other exercises to limber up.

"Gregor, check to make sure the supply cache is still intact then set up camp. Anything missing, use whatever we brought to make up the difference."

"Of course. Would Miss Emily care to assist?"

Emily is in the process of leading Elle towards a small camp chair has already been deployed somewhere off to the side. "Sure."

"Spitfire, when you're not helping Gregor, you're on babysitting duty."

"I know the drill," Emily says tiredly as she walks her charge out of the way of the hustle and bustle.

"You'll be in charge of Tee as well."

That earns a pause from the young woman, but she simply slumps in place and continues leading the smaller girl behind her. "Understood…"

Finally Faultline turns towards me. "Tee, I know I asked for your assistance but that's for later. For now, just sit tight and try not to give Spitfire cause to burn down the place."

Hey, if she does, that's not my fault. Just saying…

I lift one leg in acknowledgement, then use the limb to punch the swing-out plastic tab that allows access through the cover of the portable terrarium. I'm already crawled halfway out, my front two pairs of legs braced against the lip by the time anyone can react.

"… really?" drawls the leader.

I stare at her.

"You couldn't wait until we finished setting up camp, at least?"

_Staaaaaare._

"…It's for your own good?"

I swivel around back and forth to allow my largest eyes to track around the building before I reorient them on the blank-faced woman staring back at me. I flex the set of legs on one side to allow my head to tilt slightly.

_Staaaaaaaaaaaaare._

She suddenly drops her head and looks away. "That shouldn't work as well as it just did," she mutters. In a louder voice, "Fine, but stay out of the way. It's your own fault if someone drops something on top of you."

Ahah!

I immediately Parkour out of the box and to the top of the van, inspecting my new domain and trying very hard not to preen.

I'm not quite sure I succeed.

Faultline claps her hands twice. "Newter, five minutes. The rest of you, get to work."

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Apparently reconnaissance takes a long time. It's been several hours and there's been no sign of Faultline or Newter. Still, nobody else looks worried, though, so I guess neither am I.

…If Faultline dies, somebody can still drive us back to Brockton Bay, right?

Right?

Our 'camp' consists of several fold out chairs positioned near one wall of the warehouse. Blankets and sleeping bags arranged nearby. A quintet of large sport bags are placed at the foot of each sleeping bag. Finally, my terrarium has been placed on a small footstool between a green and black bag.

A large fold-out table, one that required two people to properly set up, is in the centre of the floor near the van. It's big enough for a half-dozen people to stand along the sides without too much crowding. A trio of poles surround it, each one supporting a fairly bright spotlight, though all of them are currently switched off.

Gregor is currently parked on one of the chairs reading something on a tablet computer. Emily is leading Elle on a slow walk along the perimeter of the warehouse, with me riding on her head.

On Elle's head, not Emily's. This should be apparent by the fact that nothing is burning at the moment.

The older girl is wearing a pair of headphones but the bass line of whatever she's listening to is strong enough to be heard from where we are. Unfortunately, either my version of headpats is not enough to lift her mood or Elle is too deep into Labyrinth to fully appreciate it. It doesn't stop me from continuing to softly beat her head like a drum in time with Emily's music, something that had her snorting in amusement before she'd managed to school her expression.

It's rather… nice, somehow. Relaxing. It's difficult to think back and remember the last time I was able to enjoy this level of peace and quiet.

It seemed like my every day was filled with terror, scrambling around desperately to find food, to find a path to survival. Now that I have some time to just slow down again… it's very calming.

I still wish they'd dropped me off at home, though. They can drive a few hundred miles but they can't make a quick detour? I have the oddest feeling I'm being played, here.

Maybe I should look into tha—

"Geezus, what the fuck?!" Emily suddenly skips back with a cry. Something clatters to the ground in the darkened corner we're approaching and a black blur dashes away, changing course to avoid the light.

Oh hey, dinner.

Sticky Threads!

"Miss Emily, what is the matter?" Gregor trots up to the two girls, his eyes filled with concern for the one half bent over trying to control her breathing.

"There was… there's a…"

"Ah, I see." Gregor says with a sudden tightness in his voice. "A rat."

Hmm, I probably shouldn't reel it in; I'm sure once she's lucid Elle wouldn't want me to get her outfit dirty. I'm sure Emily won't mind if I run off for a moment. I turn towards the two capes and throw out a quick salute before I shoot out a Grappling Thread and yoink.

_Thwip. _

Parkour!

_Crunch crunch._

Oooh, this is _much _better than crickets!

_"__Jesus fucking Christ!"_

"…I shall inspect our supplies to ensure there is no infestation. Excuse me."

_Nom nom._

I'm halping!

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

When Faultline and Newter return, it is to a grim atmosphere usually found in emergency wards or funeral homes.

"What happened?" she barks out.

Gregor sighs. "Miss Emily has discovered a small infestation of rodents within the building."

Faultline turns to where Emily is huddled within her sleeping bag. Elle is seated beside her and Emily has her wrist held in a firm grip, using it to pull the smaller girl's hand against the crown of her own head and rubbing it in circles.

"I see. And?"

"I have inspected our supply cache. There are several items that are contaminated and are needing to be replaced."

"Unfortunate. But I can take care of that before we leave." She looks around, performing a quick head count. "Where's the spider?"

Gregor points to the furthest area of the warehouse where the light doesn't quite reach. "It seems Miss Tee has picked up on the fact that Miss Emily does not currently desire her company and has taken it upon herself to remain isolated for now."

There is a sudden shrill squeak and a small rat half runs, half limps into view from the corner. It barely gets a foot away from the shadows when there is a crack not unlike that of an air pistol firing and something shoots out to wrap itself around the fleeing rodent. Still squeaking out sounds of distress, the creature is slowly dragged back into the darkness.

"She is dealing with the infestation," Gregor continues.

_Crunch crunch._

The squeaking cuts off abruptly. It's probably just—no, needs to be—her imagination, but she can almost see the faint specks of light reflecting of multiple rounded surfaces.

Faultline stares into the darkness… and the darkness stares back with many, _many _eyes.

...

* * *

_**(a/n)**—fair warning, there was some hidden text denoting the other half of the phone call in the first part of this snippet. i personally don't think the information is important as almost anyone experienced with worm should already have a fair suspicion of who the caller is... so as far as i'm concerned it's purely **bonus** info._

_if you absolutely **must** read it, the original text is still there on the spacebattles thread, and if you're on mobile and can't reveal the text easily a helpful reader quoted the revealed text several posts down._


	19. Spider 15

**Spider 15**

In stories where a group of protagonists involve themselves in some sort of elaborate scheme, there are several requirements.

Firstly, every member of the wacky crew has their own speciality which aids the group somehow, things like the fixer, the greaser, the driver, et cetera.

Secondly, there's always a complicated plan that is described in excruciating detail, step-by-step. Sometimes this description happens during the actual planning phase, but more often it's spoken of after the fact to allow the story to maintain some suspense for the audience.

Lastly, the execution _always _goes wrong and the crew has to scramble for a backup plan, winging their way out of the situation. Usually with a lot of explosions involved for some reason.

So if my life were somehow subject to the whims of narrative causality, then this: right here, would be a caper.

Faultline is the Planner: making all the… plans. I haven't actually seen how she fights so I don't know what else she does.

Gregor is the Second: dependable and loyal to the leader, able to pinch in wherever he's needed. He's also big, so he's a shoe-in for the Big Guy.

Newter is the Stealthy Ninja guy (although how that works when he's neon-coloured escapes me): apparently he likes sneaking into places from really weird angles and entry points—like walking on ceilings and entering from attic windows—and _somehow_ quietly knocking out anyone he comes across.

Spitfire seems be the Gofer: tasked to take care of most of the menial labours the others need her to do; maybe that's why she's usually taking care of Labyrinth. But her main part in the actual caper would probably be something like a Cracker? Making a convenient entrance or simply burning a hole through whatever they need access into.

Labyrinth is… I have no idea. Her name indicates something maze-y but the most I've seen from her are random half-statues or barbed wire slowly extruding out of the walls and floors. But then again, the crew seem to be actively inhibiting her power somehow by poking her a lot. I'm sure when she lets loose it'll be… _a-maze-ing_. Hah. Hah. Hah.

Anyhow, that makes me the New Guy! I'm lost and uncertain of my place in life, not sure I should be involved in this. But, through the power of friendship and sheer force of personality, I will eventually find common ground with the others and—_oh my God, I'm about to be hit with Stockholm Syndrome._

…I wonder if it's too late to just Blink back to Brockton Bay.

Ehh, it's probably really, really far. If crossing halfway through a city overtaxed my tiny little spider legs, I doubt I'd fare very well trying to cross the entire New England corner of the country.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

I'm currently bored out of my mind in yet another abandoned building. This one isn't a safehouse or a warehouse, but someplace that was conveniently placed close to our target. Some place called 'Alka-Max' or 'Alchemist House' or something. It's apparently the place Faultline wanted to rob, or burgle, or infiltrate, or whatever cape mercenaries do.

Somehow whatever it is doesn't involve half of her team. So when she took off with Newter and Gregor, she also left me with Spitfire and Labyrinth in this run-down, dusty office.

There was a long and complicated-sounding explanation and backstory for the place they were breaking into, but to be honest I wasn't really paying any attention. I was too busy cleaning up the 'mess' I'd made when I was taking care of the mess that was already there. As if their abandoned warehouse having a pest problem was my fault!

Talk about being ungrateful. They even asked me to stay in my box while everybody was sleeping. Boring! A Home isn't quite as cozy when you're forced to make it in a confined space. I should know, I stayed overnight in a building's air vents.

Anyhow, this means I don't actually remember what the plan is, which means I don't know when they're actually supposed to be coming back.

But that's a good thing, right? If my life really is some kind of story, that means if I don't know the plan it's an unspoken guarantee that things will go well. Any 'audience' watching me won't find it boring for events to follow the plan to the letter—which means that the plan is _safe_.

If I _did _know the plan, then events would conspire to throw everything off and then _things _would be happening. So, by not paying attention to Faultline's really long and winding briefing, I've just saved all of their lives!

I'm doing my part!

Still, Labyrinth seems… unsettled, even for her. I'd offer her headpats but she and Spitfire are manning the radio.

Also, I'm in my travelling terrarium. It's a bit hard to interact with other people from here.

Every now and then Faultline's or one of the others' voices come through and Spitfire responds to their updates by whispering instructions into Labyrinth's ear. Apparently this does stuff because everybody seems happier after the fact. Or at least less stressed out.

I can't tell if Labyrinth just doesn't like being on the job, doesn't like using whatever her power is, or if these weird mood swings she has goes all the way from happy-go-lucky to I-hate-myself-and-want-to-die. But apparently whatever she creates with her power reflects her mood somehow because what used to be an abandoned office is now… something far different.

I wonder if the group ever considered getting her professional help, or maybe looking into an actual asylum rather than this facsimile.

Then again, Faultline did mention earlier that everybody chipped in something for her, so maybe a shrink that's willing to work with a cape is really expensive. I feel kinda bad that I can't do anything for her myself.

Maybe I could mow lawns, or something. Chip in some pocket change.

Wait, that might be the Stockholm talking again. Bad me. Bad, bad me!

How can I avoid this pitfall? Well, I can find out more about my new friends—captors, I mean captors—so I can eventually turn in their secrets to the proper authorities.

Be the sneaky double-agent! There's no way this could go wrong!

_Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap… _

{so how is the whether question mark} Stupid auto-correct.

Spitfire is visibly startled and she nearly trips over Labyrinth as she whirls around to face my terrarium and the phone taped to the side. "Gah," she eloquently responds. "Warn me before you do that!"

Uh… how am I supposed to tell someone I'm about to use a text-to-speech device if I can't speak? C'mon, lady, think this through.

{i'm bored whats going on question mark}

Spitfire glances back towards the radio briefly before turning back to me. "They're still inside. Things are going to plan and there have been no alarms as far as they can tell."

Ah. That sounds good. If only I knew what the plan was. {why am i even here question mark}

"I'm sure Faultline has her reasons," she demurs.

Well that was spectacularly unhelpful. {can i come over to L question mark}

"No!" she says abruptly. "I mean, I don't think it's such a good idea right now. Sometimes her power can get a bit finicky with strange people around her."

Given that this place is currently looking like the asylum from Silent Hill, I can sort of see that. Lots of filthy pillow things lining the walls but a hard, cold metal floor. Lots of barbed wire for no apparent reason. The worn but relatively comfortable padded chair that Labyrinth had been sitting on is now some sort of crazy surgical chair with sharp implements sticking out from the sides like a demented… well, spider.

Spitfire has kept one hand tightly clasped in Labyrinth's this whole time and I can see the tension in their shared grip even from here. That, combined with the faint whispers coming from the girl, a long string on nonsense stream of thought, really makes me want to crawl over there and give her a hug.

But… box.

Haah~ I feel useless.

Still, I wonder what sort of 'help' Faultline expects me to provide when apparently I'm not part of the Babysitter's Club nor a member of the Sneaky Crew. I mean, have my own innate spidery-ness too! I can climb walls, just like Newter! I'm also tiny, which makes me much harder to see! Nooobody will ever know that I'm there! I can be plenty sneaky! I survived in the PRT building without being noticed for multiple days!

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_[sounds of distress]_

"Armsmaster, stop rewatching those logs already. I know you're doing research but there's only so much screaming I can take."

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

I mean, I could help out on a burglary too! Or is it a robbery? I've read that there's a difference there, but I forgot what it was…

I mean, I'm a jumping spider. I can leap several times my body-length! That's impressive, right?

Oh, oh! And I've got my webs! I can tie up the loot, or tie up people, or make… things stick to other things… it's useful, okay?

Plus, I can nom people! I can give them horribly itchy rashes! Plus, if someone's a secret cape, I can nom their powers too!

Like, I can Blink just like Oni Lee! Instant army, go! I mean, they're kinda stupid but quantity is a quality all of its own.

Also, I can tank damage like Aegis! No matter how many hits he takes he always gets back up! Just like me! I mean, I have to run away eventually and get into a new body that didn't take the damage or else I'm squished, but I'm tough just like him!

Though I can't fly. But _just _like him!

And I have _time freezing_ powers, just like Clockblocker! For… me only. But that's still useful, with it I can be the planningest planner that someone like Faultline could never hope to match! I'll have all the time in the world to realise just how screwed up my situation is!

I can make shields! And I can make lasers… sort of… just like the New Wave kids!

Still can't fly. Totally not bitter about that.

You know, come to think of it, I could be the next spider-Alexandria if I could just fly? I mean, I'm tough, I can hit hard, and I can thinky-thinky. But _nooo _I can't fly. Like, if we go by the size ratios, normal people are like Endbringers to me. So it's like I've done battle against more 'Endbringers' than she has! How many has she fought? Three. How many has she _beaten?_ Zip!

I've made _plenty _of humans run away! I haven't quite beaten them either, but I've fought way more than just _three_.

Take that, real-Alexandria!

Hmm... oh, oh! I bit Shadow Stalker too! I still don't know what I got from her, since I don't feel… _shadowy_ ever. Hmm… what's been happening since I nom'd her?

Well, I got fat.

Maybe that's her secret. I knew Sophia was on the track team for a reason! She's a natural tubby and needed to run just to stay in shape! That must be it, it all makes sense now! And the shadow thing is… is…

Okay it doesn't quite make sense. Meh, I'll figure it out sooner or later.

What else, who else… oh yeah, I got this power that makes zero sense from Gallant! The eMotion Tracker! It has nothing to do with making lasers or power armour and it hurts to use for some reason but—_ow_—I have complete awareness of anyone around me!

Like, that really bored-grey light must be Spitfire. Labyrinth is this really rainbowy thing that I can't make heads or tails of, she must be having really weird mood swings or something.

So yeah, I can be even sneakier now that I know when other people are nearby! Like that calm-blue one that just hit my range. Or the nervous-yellows of the one next to them. Or the other calm/nervous-green one that… um?

_Waitasecond_. Isn't this supposed to be a hideout?

{hey this is a secret base right}

This time I don't startle Spitfire. "Just a convenient staging area. Nothing we really care about."

{three people are approaching} I wave a limb vaguely in the direction my painful power is telling me where the feels are.

"How could you possibly—" she begins, before she thinks better of it and simply grabs the radio. "Faultline, we might be compromised."

There is a crackle of a transmission, but not from Faultline. _"__Aww crap, maybe I didn't get them before they hit the silent alarm after all."_

"Goddamnit, Newter."

_"__We haven't achieved all of our objectives yet, can you keep them unawares?"_ Faultline says authoritatively. _"__Or, barring that, keep them busy?"_

"I don't even know who they are," Spitfire protests. She turns towards me, "Do you know who they are?"

I give her a blank stare. Powers are bullshit, but they aren't _that _bullshit.

Or _are _they?

…

…Nope, no they're not.

I do my best to give her a spider shrug.

Two of the colours approach us, the third seems to remain further out and—if I'm reading this strange sense correctly—at a much higher elevation.

I am not jealous. Not at all.

There is the electronic squeal of some sort of megaphone or other sound-amplifying device. _"__This is Chevalier of the Philadelphia Protectorate. We've received reports of suspicious activity within the nearby area. We know there are people inside, please come out so we can vet you."_

"It's the white hats," Spitfire reports. She's beside what remains of the window, peeking an eye out. "Philadelphia Protectorate, I can see… Chevalier and I think Rime." She turns back at the sound of me tapping on the side of my box.

I hold up three limbs.

"There's a third one keeping out of sight, unknown so far."

There is a moment of silence from the radio, then a sigh. _"__Well, damn. I don't think you can handle that on your own. Gregor?"_

_"__I am here."_

_"__We're going loud and hope that draws some of the heat off of them. See if you can intercept anyone heading towards Alchemilla, or support them if they press the issue."_

_"__I will do so."_

_"__Spitfire, don't acknowledge them unless it becomes necessary to break cover. They might know someone's there, but not quite who yet. Hopefully they deem you a non-priority."_

"Got it," Spitfire confirms. She reaches underneath the table and pulls out her gas mask, beginning the process of wrestling it on.

I can't tell when the sneaky group stops being sneaky exactly, but I can tell when the heroes catch wind of it as the red hues of alarm begin to seep into their colours. I can just barely pick up the mysterious third member beginning to move when a sudden migraine hits me and my head becomes pain. I frantically cut off access to the eMotion Tracker before my brain explodes.

Stupid staticky piece of shit power… grrr…

_"__What was that?"_ Chevalier shouts, momentarily forgetting he's still got his megaphone on.

Spitfire turns back towards me questioningly but I give her another shrug and wave her off.

_"__Some sort of… line… it appeared, then it vanished,"_ the hero continues speaking in response to an unheard question. _"__Now that I'm paying attention… I can see more of them, all leading off somewhere east. Maybe northeast. Search the building over_… there!"

Uh… what? What is he talking about?

"Faultline, I don't know what's going on, but I think _you're _the lower-priority for some reason," Spitfire nervously reports.

_"__Attention occupants!"_ the Protectorate hero shouts. _"__Surrender or we _will _engage. Come out peacefully, this is your last chance!"_

_"__I am on my way, Miss Spitfire."_

Spitfire takes several steps towards me and smacks the lid off of my container. "Watch Elle," she orders, before marching towards the window and sticking her head out.

_FWOOSH._

So. I just would like to point out: I had nothing to do with this plan falling apart. I've been in this box this whole time. Narrative causality can go suck it.

Also, there are buildings now on fire, but they are totally not my fault.


	20. Spider 16

**Spider 16**

There's a big difference between watching capes fight and having capes fighting you. When you're just watching, you get to enjoy the light show and wish you had brought the popcorn. At worst, maybe you're hoping to be outside of the various areas of effect their powers might have.

When you're actually the one engaged in combat, it's a whole mess of _pleaseletthiswork _and _ohshititdidn'twork _and _ohGodWHY_. Plus screaming. Lots and lots of screaming.

Trust me, I've spent most of my (cape) life fighting other capes. I'm an expert.

This, though? This is new.

Up until now, I've always fought alone. My objectives were pretty basic: get in, nom, get out.

Getting in wasn't too hard. Being a spider means I'm a perfect ambush predator, no matter what anyone else says. I'm downright sneaky, because um… I can jump. And make webs. And if all else fails I just Blink in. I'm a goddamned _ninja!_ I always have the element of surprise!

…I'm still working on the getting out part, but I have a lot of cheats that make it easier to withdraw in one piece. Most of them are the same ones that help get me in, but since by that point people are all _'eew gross!'_ and setting things on fire, it's a bit harder to be sneaky about it.

But now, I'm not alone. For the first time ever, I have teammates who aren't me. Or at least, people who are nominally on my side. Not teammates. That implies a level of familiarity we simply do not have yet.

I'm not falling to the dark side just yet.

My objective isn't quite so simple either. I'm not sure what Labyrinth is doing but there's probably a reason she has to be here and not with Faultline. That means she's something of a static defense point. I can't simply Parkour out of here and nom everyone in sight, that would be counterproductive to that task. Also, the last time I did that things resulted in a rapid escalation from a 1v1v1 free for all into a six versus me. Even worse, despite them being the aggressors, these are _heroes _attacking us and I don't want even more of them to think I've fallen down the slippery slope of villainy.

Backstabbing Faultline's Crew is equally unappealing. For all my ardent refusal to fall under their sway (_I'm _on _to you, Mr. Stockholm_), I'd still prefer not to burn bridges with the first people to treat me as a person and not something to immediately squish.

But then again, they did stick me in a box. That's not very neighborly.

But they also gave me a way to communicate!

Though they did take me further away from my home on trumped up pretenses.

B-but headpats!

Gaah, why is this so hard?!

I'll guess I could just try to sit this out. Hopefully I'll get ignored in the confusion and then I can claim neutrality after the dust settles.

_Fwoosh._

Spitfire is living up to her name, spewing out a sparkling liquid from the vents of her gas mask out the window. The liquid glows with an inner flame and anything it splashes onto immediately ignites. Within seconds, almost all of the nearby approaches to the building are set aflame, preventing anyone from being able to close in.

Well, that's the theory anyhow.

Like a villain from a popular video game, this guy with a really big sword casually walks through the flames and just glares at us. Unlike what I remember from a few popular image memes, he resembles a knight more than a poster child for L'Oréal hair conditioner and this is not a very skinny blade that he is carrying. Rather, it's a massive broadsword split lengthwise down the middle that he easily lifts it with one hand to aim the twin points directly at our window.

_BOOM._

There's a sound like an enormous cannon firing off and Spitfire _tsks _and presses against the wall. Just in the nick of time, as a large blur crashes through the window and smashes through the wall on the far side of the room.

At the same time, glittering shards that reflect the light cast by the fires rain down from above. Where they land, there is an explosion of rapidly-forming crystals alongside clouds of steam, smothering the flames. They also are very cold, rapidly dropping the local ambient temperature if the sudden condensation of the nearby windows are any indication.

"It never fails," Spitfire grumbles. "Either it's someone I really shouldn't be setting on fire in the first place, or someone who can just laugh at me and ignore it. There's never any middle ground."

…So, I'm not saying this is what my team is dealing with, because they're not _my _team. But if they were, then I think my side could use some balance changes. A direct counter to our sole attacker and a tank that can shrug everything off? This seems to be a bit unfair.

And while we're on that subject, if we're getting shot at, could somebody please move my box off from the tabletop and to the floor?

There is another boom and a resounding impact, but curiously no further projectiles are breaking down our walls.

That's due to the fact that there are other walls for it to be breaking down first before it gets to ours.

It seems Mr. Knight's weapon is strong enough to destroy priceless antiques from a forgotten age. Or at least that's what it seems, since his sword now seems to be embedded within a marble statue of a swooning figure. Or rather, something that _appears _to be marble since the rest of it seems remarkably crack-free after having its head and most of an upper torso removed.

Walls and fences appear out of thin air to interpose themselves between the hero and our little group. Heavy iron doors with tiny windows full of wire-reinforced glass, easily bypassed but create an ear-splitting screech as they are pushed aside. Bloodstained, padded obstructions that cushion blows and seem to drain the spirit just from their very presence.

More statues grow out of the ground, pure white and pristine… and posed with the most heart-wrenching expressions and postures that look more suited to a demonic grimoire than a fine arts gallery.

Even the air is no longer safe, as barbed wires loop and coil over the walls and impede further crystalline strikes. The air grows colder and colder but the shards are shattered just as quickly as they are formed and the airborne cape seems to make no headway in clearing the obstructions.

So uh… I guess we have some decent defense of our own. This is actually pretty amazing, no pun intended. Labyrinth just stymied the offensives of two capes all by herself in a matter of seconds. If she can do all of this when she's 90% out of it, I'd hate to see her when she can actually pay attention to what she's doing.

Speaking of which, Spitfire did ask me to watch over her whilst she was occupied with our guests. I suppose I should get to that.

I should be fine outside my box, right? It's not like the heroes would care if I'm inside it or not, right?

Meh, it should be fine. None of the heroes are watching me, yeah? They both look to be fairly occupied. Spitfire is still trading fire—hah hah—with the knight guy. Curiously, her attacks seems to ignore the raised walls and other obstacles completely even as his hammer away ineffectually at them. With his air support apparently blocked, the fires around him grow and spread, yet he continues to ignore it.

I wonder if he's like Armsmaster. Big giant weapon that does weird stuff, plus I could really use a set of whatever that armour is. Either way, he's not looking at me.

Parkour!

Hiii~ Labyrinth! I've come to play!

She doesn't react, instead wringing her hands and muttering a stream of words under her breath too softly for me to catch.

I quickly pad down the length of her arm, the fabric of her robes providing a decent surface to descend on, and reach her hands.

Hmm, maybe I can…

I wriggle my way forward and, much to my satisfaction, they stop moving and relax enough so that I can slip between them. I'm now resting in the cupped palm of her left hand while her right rests gently against my back.

C'mon, you know you want to…

Do it~

Her fingers twitch slightly and—

_Pat pat._

_Yesssssssss. _

Labyrinth's voice has been low and faint this whole encounter, the rapid-fired cadence of a person muttering to themself. That remains unchanged, but somehow there's a slight alteration in the quality of her stream of thought. Without her enunciating properly I can't make heads or tails of what she's saying, but then I notice something else.

Her face has been hidden behind her full-faced mask, but it still swiveled back and forth ever so slightly as if she were reading from a book only she could see. Since I'm facing away from her my perspective isn't the best since only my rear-most eyes can see her in my peripheral vision, but motion is one of the things they're evolved to catch.

Now, I can tell that she's stopped moving completely and her head is aimed squarely at her hands.

Or more precisely… at me. Uh, is she having second thoughts?

Noo, Elle! We had a good thing going on! Please don't try to squish me too, my heart couldn't take this betrayal!

Just then Spitfire swears and ducks away from the window again. Even as another weird projectile cannonballs through and shreds the wall even further, I notice the outside world is changing.

The solid metal doors warp and crumple, forming jagged surfaces as opposed to their rusted but flat planes. The padded walls thicken and harden transforming from soft fabric into unyielding stone. The statues crumble into piles of rubble, littering the ground and creating an uneven terrain where there once was solid flooring.

The walls grow and climb and bend under their own weight, half collapsing on themselves and—wait, they aren't collapsing but forming long arches; arches that extend into each other and form linked, covered pathways. Spitfire's pools of flame are scattered and raised into wall sconces as torches lining the newly formed corridors—no, _tunnels_.

The walls of the tunnel system, rounded and jagged, take on a pearlescent quality as fibrous materials extrude themselves to cover nearly every available surface.

It all looks rather cozy, to be completely honest. Almost as if it was—

Oh.

This is rather flattering. Completely wrong species, but flattering nonetheless.

Spitfire turns to glare at me. "This is your fault, I just know it."

She turns to look out at the newly formed street-level cave system, with its cramped-looking, almost organic-looking tunnels. Jagged and sharp in some of the wider areas, smooth and bumpy in the more narrow ones, as if worn down by something sized to match—all lined with a thick carpet of cobwebs.

Much like the den of a vastly oversized burrowing spider.

Somehow, in the middle of my latest headpat session, I've gained the ability to see through the walls of this new maze. With a simple flip of perspective I can see the walls as solid and real as how they appear to everyone else, or I can view them as nearly transparent overlays that allow me a clear view of the knight cape with the big sword hacking his way through a wall only to find himself in an adjacent tunnel. He immediately switches gears and begins tunneling his way upwards and away.

Looking skyward through the cavernous ceiling, I spot the flying cape that had been attempting to suppress Spitfire's flames hovering in place. Between the darkness and this distance I can just make out a slender figure clad in blue with fuzzy accents along their collar and sleeves.

Instead of raining glittery, icy death on anything above room temperature, she seems to be trying to keep herself warm or something—cupping one ear as if to protect it from the wind, her teeth chattering.

That's what you get for flying up at that altitude and making everything around you even colder! I swear, some people don't think their powers through.

This might not be so bad after all! I haven't had to do anything and we've stalled out the heroes two-on-two. They're even trying to escape! Once Gregor and the rest of the crew get here we should be perfectly fine!

We've got this in the bag!—_ohcrapI'vejustdoomedusall. _

…

Are we dead yet?

…

Phew, I was worried there for a moment.

_ʙᴏᴏᴍ_

_Crack._

Uh…

"What was that?" Spitfire stares at the ceiling of our office-slash-asylum chamber-slash-cavern.

The knight cape has apparently found his way on top of a nearby building, tall enough to be relatively unaffected by Labyrinth's block-wide remodeling. His sword is… much bigger now.

Like… a lot bigger. And apparently the things cannonballing through our walls have been _literal_ cannonballs. He's been launching cannonballs out of a _sword_ somehow!

_Boom._

_Cccraaack._

Dust and larger pebbles rain down from above in time with several booming impacts.

Oh no…

The two of us stare as the knight inspects the results of his latest strike, then he plants his sword against the edge of the rooftop he's standing on and it _gets even bigger._

Oh no, no no nonono…

_BOOM._

What is this action hero-like last-minute powerup? How did he even get _up_ there so quickly?

"I just had a bad thought," Spitfire says slowly.

Noo, no bad thoughts! Only good! You'll jinx us!

"Didn't you say there were _three _people outside?"

I… oh shit.

The flying blue cape lowers one hand and a sudden hailstorm of ice shards rain from above to strike the roof of our cavern. Even though most are deflected or otherwise fail to find any purchase, enough seem to hit at a good enough angle to drill themselves slightly into the surface.

The knight fires yet _another _cannonball—where is he even _getting _all of these?!—but this time it impacts a cluster of ice shards and uses them as a wedge, like a hammer striking a chisel, and our sanctuary is cracked open.

Falling debris causes Spitfire to scream and cover her head. I'd do the same except Labyrinth beats me to the punch and covers me with her own hand, cradling me against her chest even as she remains calmly in her seated pose.

Concrete, steel, and plaster are barely in freefall for a moment, however, before a glowing tracery of light interposes itself in the air just above our heads. There is a thunderous shout and all of the falling debris vanishes in a sudden gust of wind, leaving us unharmed.

Yet another flyer hovers above us, this one much more… _dramatic _than the last. They're garbed in oversized robes that flap in a nonexistent breeze, the cowl shadowing most of his face as he stares down at us. A large wooden staff is gripped in his hand as he lowers it towards the ground, the head glowing with eldritch light.

**_"__Hold, villains!"_** a stentorian male voice proclaims. His voice echoes strangely and gives an otherwordly quality to his presence. **_"__Though you temporarily stymie those of lesser abilities, know now that you face a true Master of the Mystic Arts!"_**

Uh… what?

"Oh, fuck…" Spitfire groans. "He's totally not supposed to be anywhere near here…"

A wizard, a knight, and an ice fairy(?) walk into an office.

I wish there was a punchline here somewhere.

No way…


	21. Spider 17

**Spider 17**

A wizard, a knight, and an ice fairy walk into an office. They are greeted by a pyro, a Goddess of Headpats, and absolutely nothing else.

Nope.

No way.

I'm not here.

The room fluctuates between the ordinary and the bizarre in bits and pieces. Here and there, a carpeted floor extrudes itself into a dirt path littered with pebbles, only to flatten out once more into bloodied steel paneling. The desk that takes up most of the room still has an old computer monitor on one side, a metal tray of surgical instruments on the other, and is missing the middle portion completely, the surface broken away into rubble and cobwebs.

Labyrinth is still sitting in her demented operating chair, the only movement she makes is the light swinging of her legs. The leg rest changes from stone, to metal, to textile between every other kick. She still has her hands clasped to her chest, as if cupping something precious between them—except for the fact that it's empty.

Completely empty. Not here, lalalalala~

Spitfire is half-crouched behind the chair, having dove for cover during the aborted ceiling collapse. Once it becomes apparent that the sky is no longer falling, she's quick to pick herself up and interpose herself between the chair and the incoming capes.

One of the heroes floats down through the gap in the ceiling, turning slightly as the other two walk in using a gap in the wall. The knight shoulders aside a fallen bit of plaster, clearing the way for a more slender figure to drop to the ground and enter behind him.

"'This is my city,' you said. 'Your assistance is welcomed, but not required,' you said." The wizard lightly taps his staff on the ground, making sure there's nothing inconveniently underfoot. "How's that working out for you?"

"Myrddin…" the knight grumbles. "Focus."

"Of course," Myrddin replies. He steps to the side with a flourish, sweeping his staff up high and flaring out his robes. His voice takes on that echoing quality from before, filling the room with sound. **_"__Miscreants, before you lies the Commander of the Guard for this glorious city. The Champion of Justice. The Protector of—"_**

He's interrupted by a sword thrust out in front of his face.

"I am Chevalier," the knight says, lowering the flat of his blade. "Leader of the Philadelphia Protectorate. This is my city. I would place you under arrest for trespassing and destruction of public property except…" his helmet turns to look out the window. "There's not much actually destroyed out there, is there?"

I can barely peek outside for how tightly Labyrinth is keeping her hands together, but from what I can remember of the last parts of the fight? Lots of stuff on fire and lots of rubble. Plus the fact that we turned a good portion of the local block into an outdoor cave.

Yeah, we might be kinda screwed here.

"Nothing except what you did," Spitfire mutters. Our designated spokesperson (mostly because there is nobody else who can hold a conversation) is almost vibrating, ready to fight or flee at a moment's notice, if not for the ice fairy raising a hand threateningly in her direction. "Everything that was created here should revert when we leave, but any windows or buildings you broke are all on you."

Wait, what? This can all be fixed? Wow, Labyrinth is amazing!

Chevalier turns away from the window to face her directly. "And you are?"

"Leaving," she returns. "Hopefully soon."

"That may be difficult," the knight replies. "You see, we were on our way to a nearby facility that seems to be suffering from an unlawful intrusion. You have prevented us from responding to that intrusion in a timely fashion."

Hey, it's not like we made you stop here, buddy.

"We're not exactly keeping you from flying off into the sunset," Spitfire says, again unknowingly echoing me.

"Perhaps." The helmet swivels towards Labyrinth, still clasping her closed hands against her chest. "And who might you be, Miss?"

"She's also lea—"

**_"__It is a grave offense to prevent a maiden from speaking out in her own defense,"_** Myrddin rumbles warningly. **_"__Even if by another lady."_**

The blue-clad cape, their own outfit somewhat form-fitting and curvy, gives a rather unlady-like snort.

"She doesn't speak," Spitfire protests. "...much."

"Oh, well that's different then," the wizard says much more agreeably. "Still, it couldn't hurt to try."

The green-robed maiden's head twitches slightly for several moments before it turns towards Chevalier's direction. "...Labyrinth," she says softly.

"Thank you, Labyrinth. Your cooperation is appreciated." Chevalier turns his head slightly to look over his shoulder. "Rime, anything?"

The ice cape shakes her head. "Not a name I know from anywhere, but I _do_ recognise this effect. You might recall the report I submitted a few months back?"

Chevalier takes a moment to search his memories, then _aah's_ an epiphany. "Faultline's Crew. This is the inmate they took with them?"

His voice suddenly drops into a growl as his sword flickers to a slightly larger size. He plants it blade-first into the ground right before Spitfire. "Which would mean that we're dealing with _kidnappers_."

Spitfire reels back. "Wha? No! I wasn't there—it was before my time, I mean. But Faultline would never—ah, shit."

Chevalier simply nods, not lording over the coerced admission and pulls his sword back over his shoulder. "Warn the group heading for the facility on what to expect."

"Done," Rime promptly responds.

"What's the ETA on our own reinforcements?"

"They're still a few minutes out."

Huh, so Labyrinth wasn't originally part of the crew? She was kidnapped too? Wait, Spitfire said she wasn't. But then… that's _exactly_ the sort of thing a kidnapper would say, isn't it?

No wonder she's a Goddess of Headpats! She's in the same boat I am! Don't worry Elle, I'll protect you from all comers!

Chevalier drops to one knee before Labyrinth. Even kneeling, his armour and build still has him towering over her. His voice drops, becoming more gentle, almost soothing. "I'm familiar with the events of that day. We're aware of your circumstances and the possibility you may have been coerced into leaving. The people at Alchemilla were trying to help you. I'm sure they're willing to continue to do so. You don't have to stay with these people."

"Labyrinth," Spitfire sputters, falling silent as Rime snaps her head to over to glare at her.

Wait.

Waitwaitwait.

So, Labyrinth… was in an asylum before, and Faultline and company took her away from it? Okay, fine… nobody likes to think they're crazy. But… now Faultline's come _back_ to the asylum because… because reasons?

Did she forget Labyrinth's meds or something? Is that why she's so spacey?

Did Labyrinth not _want_ to leave the asylum? Accusations of kidnapping are being thrown around; was she taken against her will?

Are… are we the _bad_ guys?

Wait, no. I'm not a bad guys. Guy. I'm not even part of this! I'm completely blameless, but that doesn't mean I can't help to correct this injustice!

I'm with you Elle! I've got your back one-hundred percent!

Labyrinth remains still for several long moments, but the heroes seem confident enough in the situation to wait her out. Rime is completely focused on Spitfire, which makes the other woman fidget slightly, but Myrddin just casually leans on his staff, humming tunelessly under his breath.

Chevalier may as well be a statue for how much he is moving, his helmet locked directly at the girl now quietly rocking in place.

Finally she stills and exhales heavily, lowering her hands into her lap.

"I… was not… happy," she says quietly. "The doctors… did not make me happy. Mimi… did not make me happy."

She turns her head towards Spitfire. "They… make me laugh. They are interesting to me. They are interested in me." Her head droops as if tired, staring at her lap. "They make me feel… needed. They make me feel… happy."

D'aaawwwww! You're so precious!

…Okay so we're the good guys then! Defenders of Elle's smiles! Go team!

Wait—crap, I've just allied myself with a villain crew haven't I?

Chevalier nods, though with his helmet in the way I can't make heads or tails of his actual expression. "If that's how you feel, I suppose I must accept that." He climbs to his feet then, the motion ponderous and heavy with the weight of responsibility.

"Nevertheless, I must inform you that by firmly declaring your allegiance to a group suspected of criminal activities, their fate shall be yours as well. Do you understand?"

Labyrinth's reply is much faster. "Yes."

"Then before I place you all under arrest, I have one more question." He picks up his sword and takes one large step backwards, bringing the blade in line in the same motion.

"Labyrinth!" Spitfire shouts, taking a step forward before checking the motion as Rime shouts a warning.

Labyrinth doesn't move. See this? This is trust. I'm not gonna let anything happen to her. She knows I've got her _back_. I'm with her the whole way!

"What," the knight says in a low and dangerous voice. "Is in. Your hands?"

…

Um. Sorry, Elle, but could you give me a moment to wriggle my way out?

I did say I've got your back but… uhm, this is your front. You know what I mean?

C'mon telepathy powers, _activate!_

Labyrinth obligingly lifts her hands back to chest height and unfolds them as if opening a book, displaying me for all the room to see.

Fuck you, non-existent telepathy powers. You've failed me for the first and final time!

Chevalier stares. Myrddin lifts his head from his staff and stares. Even Rime turns her head and stares. Three heroes with masks that hide their eyes, yet I can _feel_ the weight of their observation.

Chevalier's head suddenly snaps up and begins swiveling back and forth. His helmet seems pointed at something in the air above us, but I don't see anything.

Spitfire also looks above our heads, then lowers it to regard the knight, her posture displaying confusion.

A harsh, horrified whisper emerges from the helmet, _"__...what are you…?"_

Huh? I'm a spider. So what?

"...This is Tee," Labyrinth says almost proudly, lifting her hands slightly in presentation. "She's my friend."

Then she curls her fingers slightly and starts to tickle my underbelly.

Eheh. Ahahah! S-stop! Stop! Oh God, why do I have to be _ticklish?!_ I can't help it, I begin to laugh—

—and Labyrinth slides her finger in between my fangs.

Wait, what?

"...and she's going to _kick your ass_."

…

…okay then. But we're going to have words later about your language, young lady.

_NOM. _

I mean seriously, who's been teaching you that shit? Was it Newter? I bet it was Newter. I knew I didn't like him.

Chevalier's head snaps back to her, as if tracing something through the air. His voice still has that horrified bent to it as he all but shrieks, _"__What in the world?!"_

Myrddin fully straightens, his staff flaring with light. "What is it?!" he shouts in concern. "Chevalier, what did you _see?_"

"The spider is a cape!" comes the reply. He pulls his sword back slightly then swings it cross-wise as if to sword-slap me from Labyrinth's hand. "Or at least has powers! Stop it!"

A marble column erupts from the ground with near-blinding speed, intercepting his attack. More pillars grow to either side and form a palisade.

Labyrinth tips her hand, dumping me into the air just as another pillar grows under my feet… which then ascends abruptly and flings me into the air.

_Whoo caaame uuup wiiith thiiiis plaaaaan?!_

Rime looks confused, disgusted, and bewildered all at once as her leader apparently loses his shit. "What the fuck…?" she mutters.

"I know the feeling," Spitfire commiserates, then hocks a glob of para-napalm at her.

The ensuing designated girl fight leaves Myrddin the only one left to respond to an airborne spider on a ballistic arc towards the ceiling. He raises his staff and flourishes it, the light emanating from the tip tracing a small sigil afterimage.

And the ceiling comes rushing out at me.

As in, the ceiling that Chevalier caved in with his cannonballs? The ones that nearly crushed us before Myrddin did some hocus pocus to banish it? Somehow, they're ba~ack!

Like, what the fuck? Isn't this overkill for little old me?

If I didn't have—_SHIELDS!_—a way to block that, that could really hurt? You know? What happened to non-lethal takedowns?

Also, you are not sending me blasting off again!

Blink!

I reappear on the walls of the abandoned building just in time for Myrddin to wave his staff and **_'__Banish!'_** several of the pillars walling of the space between the heroes and Labyrinth. Somehow my arrival catches his attention and he traces out a new Throw-the-Thing-I-Just-Magick-Nom'd-at-a-Target sigil, except nothing hits me but a rush of air and he looks taken aback.

Though only for a moment. Then he spins out a new sigil and shoots some familiar-looking fire at me.

Aah! Blink!

Hmm, old-me plus the walls splattered with para-napalm. That looks like a really horrific way to die. Also, people complain about _me_ stealing powers? This guy totally yoinked Spitfire's attacks somehow.

Chevalier is swinging and cleaving with that massive sword of his. In melee range, it's really doing a number on the walls Labyrinth is summoning to impede him. He's strangely half-hearted about it though.

Sometimes after a quick chain of attacks Labyrinth has nothing preventing her from getting skewered and she _still_ hasn't moved from her chair. Despite that, Chevalier's attacks when her defenses are down never seem to hit her. Instead they seem to come rather slowly and with the edges of the blade carefully angled perpendicular to his swings.

That lasts until she brings up a new statue or column or wall just in time to block that particular attack, at which point he steps back slightly as if warded off. By the time he 'regains' his footing, Labyrinth has grown a new set of walls for him to blitz through.

What a softy. He'll keep for now.

Meanwhile, the wizard isn't being a softy, instead he swings his staff into a wide arc and his voice thunders through the air.

**_"__Banish!"_**

And the fucker makes a black hole that is only aimed at me, somehow.

Fortunately, I've watched plenty of movies and know how to deal with such attacks. Don't run away, run to the side. _Get out of the line of fire. _

Grappling threads!

A yoink to the far side of the room gets me out of the black hole's sucking arc and to safet—

What the fuck he can _turn _it?!

Grappling threa—oh, whelp, goodbye thread, I wasn't that attached to you anyhow. Geddit? Attached?

Uhm.

Blink!

Okay, he has a good eye and some _very_ fast reactions… Fine. You want me? _You can have me!_

BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!Blinkblinkblinkblinkblinkblinkblinkʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋ…

Someone in the room is screaming. Probably Rime, I think Spitfire has got to be used to this by now—nope, Spitfire's screaming too. Thanks for making a girl feel welcome, Emily. You suck.

**_"_****_BANISH!"_**

So do you, Mr. Wizard! But less metaphorically!

What gives in first? Your black hole of bullshit or my ability to clog up your shitty vacuum and stay one step ahead?!

Maybe half a step ahead?

Oh my, this suction is very stro—


	22. Spider 18

**Spider 18**

—strong.

Uh, what happened? Did I get caught? I got caught, didn't I?

Crap, maybe I should have zigged when I zagged. At least I was Blinking in a serpentine movement. Can you imagine how embarrassing it would have been if I'd just been fleeing in a straight line and got caught?

Talk about a lame way to go out.

Hmm, where am I? I'm not dead, but I can't really see anything. It's just darkness all around.

Darkness.

Hmm, that doesn't sound dramatic enough.

.

D̵͈̳̘̙̦̀̔̍̈̈͋̄̍̌a̵͖̝̽̀̐̾͘̚à̴͍̭̞͓̯̥̱͓͔̱͕̉̒͌̏̆̅̿̾̿͐̏ͅą̵̢̮̙̥͕͓̥̍̚͜å̶̢̢̯̼̞̰̥̘̖͙̳͚̫̜̥̐̔ŗ̵̛̱̲̜͈̪͕̺̝̇́́̈́͊̊̒̚͝͠ķ̶̧̖̙̹̙̣̫͚͍̳̰̠̩̥̓̕n̶̨̛͎̘̥̬̯̟͖̤͕̅̔̈́̇̆̇̐́̈̚͜͝e̷̛̬͕͔̩̥͖͂̾̒͐̔̅̾͜s̸̢̰̗̦̦͙̬̰̮̫͚̓̓̋̊̐͐̌͒͋̆͒̈́̅̑͠s̷̩̬̞͉͕̫͓̦̹͎̅̽͊̅͊͘͝s̵̳̩̣̝̭̦̘̬̲̿̈́̍̽̐͌̀̓͜s̷̢̟̺̳̥̥͉͔͇̲̳̣̒͒͂́̒̊̉̋̽̚͜s̶̢̡͚͇̝̞̱̟̩̹̩͋͒̓̀͋̇͗͊͗̈̎̇̈́͘͘~~

.

Much more interesting.

So uh, how to see? It's not like I got any flashlight powers… Oh wait! Yes I do, sort of!

Shields!

_GYAAAAHAAAAAAHHHHH!_

_Holy shit_ that's a lot of dead mes! How many clones did I make?! Did he catch, like, _all_ of me?!

Okay, bullshit black hole, you've won this round.

Geezus, that's a lot of blank eyes and spindly limbs staring back at me. I'm almost sorry for the times I inflicted this mob on other people.

…not that I'm gonna stop doing it. It's a legitimate strategy after all. I'll just, y'know, feel a little bit bad while I'm at it.

Anyhoo, back to issue at hand. If memory serves, I've just been banished. I can tell from the fact that I've been forcibly relocated from where I used to be. I can't hear anyone else nearby, nor can I—_ow_—sense anyone nearby.

Stupid broken power.

Also, the wizard kept shouting _"__BANISH!"_ at me like it was going out of style.

I pay attention to these sorts of things. You never know when they might be important.

Well, at least I don't think I'm in immediate danger. I don't think I'm having trouble breathing and it's not like these things will be stealing any of my precious air.

In the worst case scenario, I also have a ready food sup—_eeergh_, let's think about escape instead.

Though I am a bit hungry after spamming that many clo—_AHHHH nope nope nope._

Can I reshape the shield? Make it into a wedge instead of a bubble?

… Hmm, signs point to 'no.'

Can I crawl my way out?

Ehh, whatever this pocket I've been banished into, it's packed a lot of mes pretty tightly together. I can barely even move without the shield giving me some wiggle room.

Can I Blink out?

Not if I can't see where I'm going.

Can I change what I see?

Altered-perception powers, _activate!_

Huh, wait, that actually did something. That's a first.

Now I'm seeing double. Well, not really double, more like something else just out of focus. Something that's not a creepy pile of dead mes. It kind of reminds me of that weird half-transparent overlay from Labyrinth's power—oh! Oh yeah! I nom'd Labyrinth! She made a noble sacrifice on my behalf!

Still, I don't remember her funky bizarro growths being trees or bushes. Just weird caves and an asylum from hell.

I wonder if I can touch it. It's right there poking through the big butt of a clone-me. It's actually kind of a creepy coincidence that I am totally not thinking about.

Tap.

Okay, I touched the butt. _Gyaaaaaah~_ Wipe it off, wipe it off! Okay, try again.

Tap.

I should lose some weight. I am not liking this big butt. And I cannot lie. It's totally in my way.

Tap. Tap. _Tap. _

Yes yes, I am tapping dat ass. Leave me alone. C'mon tree, c'mere!

_Rustle. _

Eh? Eh! Oh, I got it! _I got it!_ And now, pull!

_Thump. _

Oof. Oh hey, I'm free! Now I'm no longer about to be crushed by my own clones! Now I'm…

I'm…

Where the hell am I?

Trees, grass, sky… this is definitely not Kansas anymore. Am I going to have to walk out of a forest now? I mean, I probably could if I had to but experience has shown me that I don't do so well on extended hiking trips. I suppose it's better than being in a black hole.

Ugh… and it's a pretty dense forest too. I mean, I'm small so it's not that much of an issue for me but even a spider would prefer smooth terrain over all this rock, fallen branches, thorny bushes, and oh! Oh, it's Labyrinth! I can see Labyrinth!

Let's go head that waaay—_why is it _just _her head?!_

Labyrinth's head is hanging under a tree branch! This is kinda disturbing, because the last I saw of her, even if she was a bit out of it she wasn't depressed! In fact, she was borderline _happy!_

Wait… there's no rope. Is it just… floating there? This is all kinds of strange.

…I wonder what would happen if I poke it?

Nope! No, bad me. Respect the disembodied head of your Headpat Goddess. Let's uh… _not_ keep heading this way and go… thataway instead?

More forest, more trees. What beautiful, non-head-hanging branches! Aaaand this rock has a foot next to it. Again, all by itself. This is concerning. Why am I finding body parts all over this place? Just what's going on with Labyrinth's power?

Okay, this place is creepy. Let's not stick around. Anywhere has to better than here.

And off we go into—_what the sudden scenery change!_ This… okay, I did say I didn't want to be in a forest anymore.

Did I blink? I can't blink, I have no eyelids.

Did I Blink? Uh… I can't even see the forest any longer. Where would I have Blinked _from?_

Ugh, this is a very dreary cave. Okay, I know I thought it was a tunnel spider's lair, but I don't think a spider would want to stay in the place if given a choice. Trust me, I'm a spider and I'm not liking this! It's so… blegh.

Well, at least it's not the forest of horr—orrrrrr there are still body parts around here. That's an arm. That is most _definitely_ an arm! It's an arm next to… a rocky… column… thingy.

Is it a stalagmite? A stalactite? What's the difference again? One grows from the ground, one drops from the ceiling… it's on the tip of my tongue here. Gahhh, this is gonna bug me, I just know it.

Rocky thing growing from the ground, with a ghostly hand pressing against it. Not scary at all. You hear that, rock? I'm not scared of you!

Oh shit, the rock just broke. Well, less broke and more like was chopped in half by something. Um. I'm sorry? You were a very good rock column? I didn't think my words were that cutting.

Geddit? Cutting? Ah… moving on. I don't like this cave either. Somewhere else please!

…Okay. Wow, I didn't expect that to work.

Um… this looks like a creepy room. A very _familiar_ creepy room. Very Silent Hill. Uhh, let's try going through this door—_pleasenomonsterspleasenomonsters. _

Oh, uh… well, that's not a monster, but it is a chair. A chair with Labyrinth's torso and nothing else—okay what is going on here?!

I'm starting to think being in the Darkness with thousands of dead clone-mes was better than this. That was just unsettling.

This is _freaky_.

Oh Labyrinth, what did they do to you? Why are you in pieces scattered all over the place? Who hurt you? Who needs to _pay?_

Hmm, come to think of it, maybe it's not really her. It's kind of see-through, just like the tree branch was in the Darkness. And if touching the tree got me here…

Okay, pull yourself together me! You're gonna be brave and not freak out about body parts lying down! You're gonna buckle down, tighten your belt, and touch the thing!

_Eeeuuuurggggh._

_Nnnnngh… _

Okay, okay. I can do this…

P-parkour?

Okay. A chair, this is a good spot. A safe spot. Now for the headless, limbless torso that is totally not freaking me out no matter how creepy it is. _SorryinadvanceElle!_

_…__Poke. _

Okay, nothing happened to me. Good. All is well—_whatthehellisthat?!_

_Ghosts! _Ahhh ghosts! Spooky dead people! With swords! Spooky dead sword-wielding ghosts that—isn't that the knight guy?

Wait.

Waitwaitwait.

Okay, I think I'm starting to get an inkling of what's going on. I still don't get _why,_ but I think I know the _what. _

Okay, first I was sucked into a black hole from Mr. Wizard into wherever a _Banish!_ takes me. I went from there into a trippy place that seemed to change settings at random and had various parts of ghostly Labyrinth's body scattered around. Now I'm seeing the place I left before all of this happened, also kinda ghostly.

In fact the whole trippy thing started when I brought up the 'Labyrinth-overlay' all by myself. If I do that again…

Oh hoh! Success! I've managed to put Humpty Dumpty back together again! Labyrinth is reunited with her head and limbs once more! Except… now I'm seeing bits and pieces of scenery that don't fit together. Which is almost as trippy.

I can see the tree in the forest again above her head. There's the rock by her foot, I don't recall seeing any funky white buildings by her sides, but I do recall that broken stala-thingy which is now rubble on the floor. And finally, the chair from the asylum that I'm standing on.

This means! This means…

This means that Labyrinth's power is really, really confusing. _Ugh._

Now, how can I take that one final step and get myself back into the outside world? Hmm, let's try the forest again. That tree branch above her head seems like a good fit.

Parkour!

Aaand back to the forest. Again. Somehow. Along with… the head. At least I can still see the rest of her. That makes this a thousand times less weird.

…nope. No, this is still pretty fucking weird.

Now to swing around to the underside of the branch and…

Grappling Threads!

Please let this work, please let this work…

It's not a floating head… just powers are bullshit. Not a disembodied head, powers are bulllshitttt.

_Poke. _

Whoahhhhhhh that's a sudden rush of sensation! But it worked!

I'm back! Back in the real world, without any weird fractal space-time shenanigans or whatever the hell that was!

Oh hey, I somehow brought the whole tree with me. With me dangling from a branch on a strand of silk—you know what? I think this is the first time I've actually done the classic spider thing!

Go me! I'm thematically appropriate!

The real world is a lot busier than when I'd left it. It seems Gregor has finally arrived and is currently spraying out streams of… stuff… at the wizard from his hands.

Ice fairy has taken to the air once more, flying this way and that in order to evade brightly glowing globs of para-napalm as well as a duller, but no less orange blur of Newter _leaping_ after her. Icicles rain down in a veritable hailstorm that shatter and create a mess of icy spikes all over the roof and portions of the floor.

Apparently orange men can _jump._

There's no sign of Faultline yet, but the knight is hacking away at various objects—columns, stalagmites (a-hah!), vines, and barbed wires—and occasionally shooting cannonballs at Newter's landing spots to try to trip him up. So far it doesn't seem to be working.

My arrival doesn't make the fight quite stop in its tracks—it's escalated a bit too far for that—but the closer combatants do pause slightly to take in my reappearance.

Knight is the first to notice, whatever funky sense he has immediately alerting him to my presence. He pauses in mid-swing and simply stares at me as if dumbfounded.

Wizard doesn't see me at first, but his ally's sudden cessation of movement draws his attention and he is much more vocal in his disbelief.

**_"__Skies above and earth below!"_** he swears in some kind of wizarding oath. Seriously, this guy has probably gone to way too many renaissance faires.

Gregor barely misses a beat and sprays a jet of milky-white liquid at the other cape, who absentmindedly twirls his staff and sucks the attack up, following it up with another twirl that has the stream shooting it back the way it came.

Labyrinth simply reaches a hand up to her head and pokes at me, then brings it back down to clap her hands together happily.

I reach down with a limb.

_Pat pat._

Never let it be said that I don't repay my debts!

"Is there more than one?" the knight gasps.

Wizard frowns, then points his staff to an empty side of the room. **_"__Release!"_**

Much screaming and shouting follows as a hole in reality tears open and a mass of chitinous white bodies pour out and slam into the far wall. Apparently I'm not noteworthy by myself, but hundreds or thousands of me? _That's_ attention-grabbing.

Eew. Now I'm _really_ glad I'm not still stuck in the middle of all that.

The knight seems less affected by the grisly sight than he is of just me, which I'm beginning to find just a bit insulting. What did I ever do to him? I haven't even _tried_ to nom him!

"It's just the one!" he confirms, staring between the pile and myself. "Contain it!"

"What do you think I was trying to do before?" the wizard mutters as he's forced to split his attention between the exchange and Gregor's assault.

The sudden, combined focus of the two capes is extremely unnerving. The fact that they both have two very large weapons suddenly aimed at me?

Uh, yeah. Nope. This is just nope. I quickly tug on the threads suspending me from Labyrinth's tree and start thinking Slider thoughts.

Great, back in the forest again! Shields and deferred damage are all well and good, but what's the best defense? _Not being in the path of the attack. _

I hop off the tree branch and start skittering along the forest floor as fast as my eight little legs will take me.

Now then, being the focus of attention is not ideal. I need a way to remain undetected. My chief weapon is surprise after all. Well, fear and surprise. No wait, fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency in my attacks!

Okay, let's just agree that I'm at my best when nobody is expecting me.

So grand, dramatic entrances are out. I'll probably need to be out of sight of Mr. Can-pick-me-out-of-a-haystack whilst I'm at it.

Motion draws my attention as I'm making my way downtown. What appears to be a disembodied hand is waving at me from a cluster of thorny vines, occasionally pausing to tug at the tangles and loops that make up the plant as if loosening them up.

A series of quick hops puts me within the cluster just as several of them seem to phase out from this reality and into the 'main' one. I poke at the vine next to me and get treated to a ghostly overview of several vines snapping out from the ground and wrapping themselves around the wizard's legs.

He can't immediately respond as Gregor has timed his next attacks to coincide with this new assault and he's forced to remain on the defensive for a crucial moment.

That allows another set of vines to get shunted over and wrap around the hand gripping his staff, immobilising his weapon. After that the ones I'm holding onto get shifted over and I find myself back in the real world. These vines ensnare the wizard's remaining free hand and the length coils around his wrist just so and leaves me pressed against the back of his hand.

See, this is why she's my new best friend. Labyrinth _gets_ me.

_NOM. _

"Myrddin!" the knight roars.

**_"__Fear not, Chevalier!"_** comes the reply. I can see sweat breaking out on the wizard' face and his teeth grit as venom flows through the bite wound. Yeah, I wasn't feeling charitable. Why just NOM him when I can also nom him? **_"__This wound is not enough to impede me, in fact it only strengthens my resolve!"_**

His hand still has enough freedom of movement to twirl his staff in a grand circle. With a wordless cry, the vines tying him down suddenly blink out of existence and he flings his arms out, the sudden motion sending me flying through the air.

He grabs the staff in both arms now and spins it around once more—not with the tight, precise movements of a spell, but rather with the purposeful motions of someone used to fighting with a quarterstaff.

My legs splay out before me to ward off the incoming swing, a shield snapping to life and crumbling just as fast from the force of the blow.

At the instant the solid hunk of wood makes contact with my arms, ignoring the **_Purple_** of a particularly painful hit, my mind is racing through one thing and one thing alone.

_Think bullshit blackhole thoughts._

_Pop!_

"...what?" The wizard has a… peculiar expression on his face as his wizarding staff blinks out of existence.

Yeaaah! How do you like them apples?! Suck it! Who's the wizard now?!

Such joyous schadenfreude buoys the spirit but does little for a flying body. I'm so busy celebrating I don't even think to reorient myself before I slam into a solid object that instantly kills my momentum and probably would have killed me. As it is, I need to jump to a new body fast.

Where to go, where to go… Hey? Why does everything look like there's a thin film in the way?

_Snap._

Nooo! Not the _box!_ My one weakness! Oh cruel fate. Oh unhappy day! What misery leads to—oh, it's Faultline. Where have _you_ been?!

Wherever she was, it looks like she's had a pretty bad day. She has a backpack slung across her shoulder by one strap; not because she's an edgy teenager, but because the other strap has been slashed through and the rest of the bag is not in much better shape. Her outfit is almost grey with dust and it looks like her ponytail came loose. Or she got a haircut. Even worse! Hair is a woman's pride!

"Extract!" she shouts, fumbling with the lid of my portable terrarium and getting it secured. "Spitfire, deal with the leftovers! Gregor, cover her. Newter, grab Labyrinth and get to the rendezvous point!"

She ducks an overhead swing from the knight's sword and sweeps her hand across the flat of the blade. There is a terrific _crack_ and the blade appears to fracture, but only for a moment as within a literal blink of the eye the sword is restored to full sharpness, if reduced in size.

Gregor holds out his hands and sprays some sort of goopy glue that bowls over the wizard and adheres him to the floor. The man doesn't respond, still staring at his own empty hands in abject confusion.

Newter does some sort weird twisty flippy jumpy thing that somehow has him rocketing out of the hole in the ceiling and out of view, only for him to come rebounding off of something outside that has him flying towards the ice fairy. She barely dodges out of the way of his outstretched hand, then suddenly goes limp anyways and plummets to the ground. Newter somehow shoots back into view _again_ and catches her just in time for her to avoid a multi-storey fall… then he dumps her carelessly onto the rooftop anyhow as he drops back through the ceiling and casually trots over to where Labyrinth is seated.

Spitfire… turns and sets fire to the the pile of clone-mes; a sustained stream of liquid fire that quickly has the biomass melting into char. She takes to her task with a spring in her step, although the glint in her eye might just be that of the fire reflecting off of her goggles. Maybe she's just excited that this job will soon be over.

Meanwhile Faultline is backpedaling across the floor, frantically trying to avoid the knight's renewed assault. With Labyrinth being hauled away, he is free to turn his full focus upon her and she is at a severe range disadvantage. She takes a moment to shrug the backpack off of her shoulder and flings it in Gregor's direction with another shout. "Go! I'll catch up!"

This delays her just enough that when she turns back towards the knight, it's to find him in the middle of another overhead slash aimed squarely at her. Reflexively, she brings her arms out in front of her in a warding gesture.

Of course, given the fact that she's holding onto my box while she does so, this is not ideal for me.

Shields!

White light flares as the strike hits the defensive lattice I've conjured and the two capes each take a step back to regain their balance. Faultline stares at the bubble surrounding her hands then looks up at the knight.

I'm helping!

Then she shrugs, lifts me high, and begins bludgeoning him with me, box and shields and all.

I take it back! I don't want to help anymore!

Ow ow ow. This. Box. Does. Not. Have. Enough. Padding. This. Is. Not. It's. Intended. Use!

One crosswise hammer blow knocks the knight's sword out of alignment and Faultline lets go with one hand to jab it towards his head. For his own part, he also manages to free up an arm and uses it to slap the hand down where it hits the small panels hanging from the bottom parts of his chestplates. One of the tassets cracks and shatters into pieces.

I'd really rather not have her use me again as a weapon, still a bit dizzy from the first round. So I think _anti-bullshit blackhole_ thoughts and the wizard's staff blinks back into existence, falling to the ground in front of me.

Faultline does another double take, but picks up the heavy wooden stick and golf swings it at the broken section of armour.

The knight goes down with a rather unmanly whimper, momentarily stunned.

Faultline drops the staff, breathing heavily with exertion for several heartbeats. Then she resecures my box in her arms and dashes for the door.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"Oh man, that was _fun!_"

"That was _sloppy._ What were you ladies thinking?"

"Not our fault! We were _trying_ to lay low. Labyrinth didn't even affect anything outside except for the asylum until the white hats showed up. Then for some reason they decided they wanted to take a closer look!"

"Gregor! My man, did you see that? We totally jobbed those heroes!"

"We did what was necessary, nothing more."

"Fortunately we got what we came for, so it wasn't a wasted trip. But we _need_ to find out how you were spotted so we can prevent a situation like that from reoccurring ever again."

"Honestly, I think it was Tee."

"How?"

"I'm not entirely sure? But Chevalier kept getting spooked whenever he looked at her. And whatever it was he saw, he somehow noticed it from outside the building."

"Hmm… that is interesting, but without knowing what he saw or how he saw it, we'll have no way of knowing if anyone else can do the same thing."

"Chevalier! Myrddin! We just totally took out two of the Protectorate's leaders!"

"We got the job done, as we always do, and we walked away."

"Our op was blown completely wide open, Newter. I don't count that as a win."

"Well, we sure as hell didn't _lose!"_

{what do question mark}

"...We're going to have to lay low for a while."

{home question mark}

"Hah… I didn't want to bring it up while we were still in town, but I suppose now's as good a time as any. There's a slight problem with keeping you in Brockton Bay."

…

{what}


	23. Foreman 3

**Foreman 3**

The PRT's 'invitation' weighed somewhat heavily on my mind as I made my way home.

Yes, I'd probably seen something I wasn't supposed to. But I couldn't have been the only person to do so, if all of the rumours about a mysterious monster floating around were any indication. Besides, a new cape in Brockton Bay was not exactly conspiracy-level news, _especially _in the wake of an Endbringer attack.

If they'd wanted to ask me if I had any insider knowledge just because they found some of my belongings in an… organic satchel, well… I'm afraid they'd be sorely mistaken. I'm positive they probably knew more about my mysterious benefactor than I did. Maybe they thought it was something I needed to know about. But why me? Why not tell some other Average Joe?

Although, come to think about it, why would the PRT freely give information to _any _random civilian? I couldn't think of any possible reason why they'd think that would be a good idea, even if it related to me somehow. If I was in immediate danger for my life I'm pretty sure they would have just told me. If they expected me to trade something back… well, it wasn't as if I could provide any insights or special knowledge that they didn't have an entire organisations' worth of experts to get for them already.

It was somewhat concerning that my clothes ended up where they did, however. Which had me deciding that I should probably go check on what was left of my house…

…which of course was a near complete loss.

I idly toed the remains of the broken porch step as I returned my attention to the doorway. The structure had mostly survived Leviathan's arrival… somehow. Unfortunately it had still suffered some damage to the walls facing the street. Looters had apparently finished the job by tearing the door off from its hinges and gaining entry to do God knows what.

All of this I knew already. It was why I was currently living in the communal camps downtown.

I had visited here almost immediately after leaving the hospital, mostly to grab a few essentials like toiletries and spare changes of clothing. I was not looking forward to seeing what had remained of the insides after another several days exposed to the outside world.

From what I could tell, nothing good. The door had long been destroyed and since then, the doorway had also been damaged as if someone had crashed a car through the entrance. The dust all over the furniture and floor plus the fact that there were already cobwebs visible from where I was standing outside told me enough about its current state as a viable place to live.

I absently transferred the overly large mason jar into my other arm. I didn't even know why I was still carrying the thing. It was bulky, heavy, and I didn't believe for a minute that there was any place left that still had a proper coffee grinder.

It's not like it had any purpose as a sentimental item.

Ah, whatever. I stepped inside from the dreary outdoors to a dismal interior… and immediately began to cough.

Yep, dust. I am brilliant detective. No wonder the PRT wanted my input.

The kitchen was a complete loss. Not only had most of the appliances been destroyed and the food long spoiled, but all of the silverware and surviving pots had long been looted. Just for the record, I will accept no responsibility for anyone shanked by a bread knife in the near future. That thing could have come from _anywhere_.

The living room was also a mess. There were signs of brief habitation from the discarded trash on the floor and some soiled, threadbare blankets. But at some point the couches and armchairs had given up the ghost, and with that comfort unavailable, even the most die-hard squatters wouldn't want to live on what the floor had ended up as.

The stairs were partially destroyed, but the stairwell itself had suffered the most damage. It was as if that same car that had busted through the doorway had decided that it was too good for the ground floor and gouged out numerous strips from the walls on its way upstairs. Given all that, the stairs were actually, surprisingly functional.

Fortunately the hand rails had survived. Safety first!

The master bedroom was much the same as the living room. The bed had been stripped of its blankets and sheets, the mattress was in pieces, and all valuables were probably in some neighboring city's pawn shop by now.

All valuables, including things such as Annette's…

Let's see how my wardrobe is doing.

Some good, some bad. The good news was that only some, but not all of my clothing had been taken by looters. Not even the formal wear had been spared. I doubted anyone was going to be throwing any society parties in the near future, but a jacket was a jacket. The bad news was that of the clothing that remained, most of them were showing signs of mold or nearly torn to strips.

I didn't even think the waters had flooded _this _high, but then again weird stuff does happen when capes and monster capes are involved. Fortunately Armsmaster had let me keep the clothing left by the office, even if he'd taken the satchel they'd come with. I hadn't found any bags in the house so far, but there was still one more room left to try.

The last room…

Gone. All gone.

I mean, I'm sure that at some later point in life I could think back to what I saw and see that it wasn't all that different from the rest of the house… but at that moment, I just saw loss.

The covers she'd picked out for herself and stuck with even as she grew out of the sparkles and unicorn phase of life and into her idea of maturity. Like every other scrap of useable fabric from the house it was just… gone.

The clothes she'd borrowed, begged, and bartered for—from Annette, from Emma, even some from me… gone.

The bookshelf filled with top to bottom with her inheritance, stories she'd read alone or with one of us… destroyed.

Her desk was ransacked, any trinkets long vanished. Her school supplies were scattered across the floor and stepped on, broken, or outright missing.

Portraits were missing. Broken glass littered the ground, pictures themselves waterlogged to the point of illegibility in some cases, ripped to shreds in others. By accident or design, someone had gone through and systematically destroyed everything that could have held her face.

There was one filthy backpack stuffed in the back of her closet. I might have considered using it for my clothing if not for the broken strap and the odd smell coming from it that didn't quite match that of sea water.

There… there was nothing left of her. No pictures of her, no personal belongings, nothing of her life.

I vaguely remembered walking back to my room and taking one of the larger remaining bedsheets. Filthy and threadbare as it was, it could still be tied up into a makeshift bindle. I gathered up what few remaining clothes seemed recoverable and marched back through the front door.

I paused on the porch, taking in the city. The air. The sights. The ruined neighborhood before me. The ransacked building behind me. A city that had suffered one of the worst disasters in the modern world… to match that of the dozens of cities before it.

This was my life now.

…

_God fucking __**DAMNIT!**_

I lifted my work boot and brought it down hard against the remains of the broken step. I had been planning to fix that one day. It had been almost amusing to see how Ta—how people who knew about it would try to sneak around it, thinking of it more as an awkward alarm system than a case of casual neglect. I suppose it represented a microcosm of the household.

Something close to its breaking point, never addressed but always worked around. Always put off for _later_, we'll do it _later_, maybe _later_.

Until there was—

_STOMP._

—NO

_CRACK._

—FUCKING

I let loose with a wild kick, sending the boards flying down the street.

—**_LATER_**.

Not even bothering to see where it flew off to, I immediately completed the spin my kick had started and dropped my ass onto the remaining steps of what was a broken home. Only now it was physical to match the metaphorical. My sack full of clothing and one jar of coffee beans dropped onto the ground beside me.

Feeling drained, I simply stared at the pavement and thought about… nothing. No cosmic insights, no flashes of introspection.

Just… null.

A million years later, I heard footsteps treading across the sidewalk and ignored the shadow that loomed over me.

"You nearly hit me with that," an unfamiliar female voice said. "Got some good legs on you, but I guess I shouldn't be surprised about that."

I'd give you an apology, lady, but I am seriously all out of fucks to give.

"I'm not looking for one," the voice blithely replied.

I blinked. Did I say that out loud?

"Mhmm, but don't worry about it. You're stressed, I get that."

I finally looked up to find a woman standing several paces away. She was dressed in dark colours, some sort of tight-fitted bodysuit beneath a dingy overcoat that looked like it had been picked up straight off the street. The coat was open enough for me to see a long but stubby, somewhat stocky firearm of some sort nestled at the small of her back. Her hips were canted to one side and she had her arms crossed over her chest, hiding a symbol picked out in a lightly-coloured fabric patch.

She was also wearing a faded green mask half-hidden beneath the fringe of her red hair.

I didn't recognise her.

"If you came for the big fight," I said at last, "I think you missed it by a few days." I pointed towards the bay. "I think he went… thataway. If you hurry, you might still catch him."

She smirked. "Not here for Leviathan, although I heard your city put up quite the showing."

"Well you can't possibly be here for me. As you can see," I waved my hand somewhere behind me, "I don't have anything else to give either. No house, no money, no connections, and we've already gone over my limited supply of fucks."

"That is unfortunate," she agreed. "But if what I've heard is correct, then I think you've got more connections than you think you do."

I leaned back. "If this is about the Dockworkers, I'm hardly the man to talk to. I just handle the payroll, I'm no foreman or project manager."

"It _is _about the Dockworkers but it also isn't." The mystery cape leaned forward slightly, as if to impart some sage wisdom. "My boss sent me over to open negotiations. I'm fairly new to the group so they figured this would be a good test of my skills. Also, they figure that I'm the most personable choice."

"And if I tell you to buzz off?"

She shrugged, "No real skin off my back. They'll just find some other way to test how useful I am to the crew. But I don't think you will." She leaned back again and dropped her hands to her hips, revealing the symbol on her chest in its entirety, a four-leafed clover picked out in the same green as her mask.

"I'm feeling lucky."


	24. Protectorate

**Protectorate**

FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY (FOUO) — The following documents have been classified: TOP SECRET—EYES ONLY and are not to be duplicated or removed from the premises. Failure to comply is subject to financial or legal recompense, including fines up to 1 500 000 USD or imprisonment up to 10 years. If found, DO NOT OPEN and immediately contact your nearest Parahuman Response Team Office.

UNITED STATES PROTECTORATE  
INTRA-OFFICE MEMORANDUM

* * *

SENT 2011 JAN 17 23:45:02  
FROM: Armsmaster (armsmaster -at- pene -dot-prt .gov)  
TO: "Protectorate-ENE" _(classified mailing list)_  
SUBJECT: BOLO—Unidentified Master/Tinker

Team,

There will be a briefing tomorrow morning at 0700 hours regarding the recent penetration of the PRT Office's security cordon. I want everyone prepared for a brainstorming session and to take away key criteria to be aware of on your individual patrols.

Here is what is known so far:

• Subject is a construct loosely analogous to a spider. Base-white colour. Eight limbs. Eight eyes.  
• Subject can range from 5–15mm in length.  
• Variance in size between specimens suggests low-fidelity reproduction process. (possible Tinker with a biological focus).  
• Gallant has reported sensing human-like emotions behind the swarm (possible Master)  
• Initial intrusion vector is believed to be infestation via Shadow Stalker (see incident report filed by Miss Militia on 2011-01-15)  
• Despite preventative measures taken, swarm was able to either self-replicate or additional, undetected intrusions were perpetrated even with increased security levels.

Physical casualties are low but the psychological aspect of such attacks cannot be ignored. I want everyone attending the briefing to come up with at least one unique course of action to assist in the identification, location, or capture of the parahuman in question.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

UNITED STATES PROTECTORATE  
INTER-OFFICE MEMORANDUM

* * *

SENT 2011 JAN 21 02:42:30  
FROM: Armsmaster (armsmaster -at- pene -dot-prt .gov)  
TO: "Protectorate Level 1" _(classified mailing list)_  
SUBJECT: APB—Unclassified Threat. Temporary Designation: UNGOLIANT & SHELOB

All Offices,

Brockton Bay has recently suffered several incidents of concern and I believe the situation warrants an all-points bulletin on a possible Master and/or Tinker.

Swarm is tentatively, collectively designated as SHELOB for their quasi-spider like appearances.

In each successive encounter the Shelob swarm has demonstrated a _significant_ increase in size, improved survivability, and—most importantly—increased offensive abilities reminiscent of parahumans involved in previous engagements with the Shelob. Updated description is attached at the end of this message, with annotations for the maximum size displayed by specimens captured at the end of each encounter.

This rapid advancement has given us reason to postulate the existence of a theoretical Tinker behind the swarm, tentatively designated UNGOLIANT. Note: No actionable evidence of Ungoliant has been determined to exist at this time.

In at least one case, Shelob has been believed to possess a 'human-like mind' amongst the swarm. However, all captured Shelob specimens remain unresponsive, though many possess active autonomic bodily processes similar to existing species of arachnids. Master influence is suspected, either from an ally, or more likely a sub-classification.

Unconfirmed reports that Shelob may be self-replicating. Long-term observation of 'living' specimens do not currently support this theory.

The affiliations of Shelob and Ungoliant are currently unknown. The swarm has demonstrated hostility towards parahumans both heroic and villainous.

Ungoliant's operational range is currently unknown and has proven adept at avoiding detection until they no longer feel the need to remain hidden. All Protectorate offices on or near the eastern seaboard are advised to keep a close eye out.

* * *

SENT 2011 JAN 21 08:10:05  
FROM: Exalt (exalt -at- p03 -dot-prt .gov)  
TO: "Protectorate Level 1" _(classified mailing list)_  
SUBJECT: RE: APB—Unclassified Threat. Temporary Designation: UNGOLIANT & SHELOB

Armsmaster,

Does Brockton Bay require any immediate support? Houston stands ready to provide it.

* * *

SENT 2011 JAN 21 08:12:11  
FROM: Armsmaster (armsmaster -at- pene -dot-prt .gov)  
TO: "Protectorate Level 1" _(classified mailing list)_  
SUBJECT: RE: RE: APB—Unclassified Threat. Temporary Designation: UNGOLIANT & SHELOB

Exalt,

By "Houston" you actually mean "Eidolon".

Brockton Bay can certainly handle itself. The APB is a courtesy. You tell your boss if he's that bored he can take a page from Scion's book and go rescue cats stuck in trees.

* * *

SENT 2011 JAN 21 08:20:09  
FROM: Exalt (exalt -at- p03 -dot-prt .gov)  
TO: "Protectorate Level 1" _(classified mailing list)_  
SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: APB—Unclassified Threat. Temporary Designation: UNGOLIANT & SHELOB

We were just concerned that a critter less than an half a foot in length would be too much for the heroes of America's Greatest Cape City to handle.

Could we offer you a broom and dust pan? Assuming you haven't tinkered a more _efficient_ one up yet, that is.

* * *

SENT 2011 JAN 21 08:31:01  
FROM: Cinereal (ashphoenix -at- p39 -dot-prt .gov)  
TO: "Protectorate Level 1" _(classified mailing list)_  
SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: RE: APB—Unclassified Threat. Temporary Designation: UNGOLIANT & SHELOB

JFC you two. It's 8am don't spam my inbox with useless shit when I'm trying to put together patrol routes for my teams.

Unsubscribe me off this shitty mailing list already.

Also, Armsy? You're a total nerd.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

UNITED STATES PROTECTORATE  
INTER-OFFICE MEMORANDUM

* * *

SENT 2011 JAN 24 08:00:01  
FROM: Chevalier (chevalier -at- p05 -dot-prt .gov)  
TO: "Protectorate Level 1" _(classified mailing list)_  
SUBJECT: PRIORITY: Revised APB—SHELOB

All,

This has been scripted to be sent at the start of official business hours. If this goes through, I'm either still writing up my complete report or passed out. Hopefully the latter, because it probably means I'm done writing it and can just mail the attachment later.

Short version:

Shelob is a TRUMP. Operation similar to The Faerie Queen.

**POWER COPIER**

Possible Striker effect. Armsmaster how many capes bitten?

Shelob was encountered in the presence of Faultline's Crew. Allied Y/N?

Case53?

* * *

SENT 2011 JAN 24 08:03:24  
FROM: Armsmaster (armsmaster -at- pene -dot-prt .gov)  
TO: "Protectorate Level 1" _(classified mailing list)_  
SUBJECT: RE: PRIORITY: Revised APB—SHELOB

Chevalier,

Further details are required.

• What is the vector for the copying ability?  
• How long does the effect last?  
• What abilities were displayed?  
• How did you determine the nature of Shelob?  
• Does Faultline have a new Tinker?  
• What do you mean by, "similar to the Faerie Queen?"  
• Miss Militia wishes to know if you are dead.

* * *

SENT 2011 JAN 24 08:04:57  
FROM: Exalt (exalt -at- p03 -dot-prt .gov)  
TO: "Protectorate Level 1" _(classified mailing list)_  
SUBJECT: RE: PRIORITY: Revised APB—SHELOB

Chevalier,

Eidolon just flew off after seeing your memo. I'm not certain, but I hope you're awake because you might be getting visitors soon.

This is troubling news indeed. I'm not familiar with this Faultline.

Armsmaster, care to explain how your team came in second place to some no-names in the search for such a volatile trigger?

Also, how did you confuse a Trump for a Tinker? I know you'd like to believe so, but Tinkers can't really do _everything_, no matter much you wish they did.

* * *

SENT 2011 JAN 24 08:23:24  
FROM: Myrddin (myrddin -at- p04 -dot-prt .gov)  
TO: "Protectorate Level 1" _(classified mailing list)_  
SUBJECT: RE: RE: PRIORITY: Revised APB—SHELOB

All,

I was present for the encounter in Philadelphia and shall do my best to answer questions until such time that Chevalier recovers from his exhaustion. He is perfectly well, merely fatigued.

For the alleged copying ability, touch is required. Possibly a bite, hence Chevalier's question posed to our esteemed colleagues in the East-Northeast.

We are uncertain as to the period of time that any stolen abilities will last.

Shelob (I heartily approve the name, by the way. Although I doubt a certain household's estate would agree) displayed several disconnected abilities and appeared to gain more as the encounter progressed. What I personally noticed was thus: teleportation, self-duplication en masse, and resistance to physical attacks backed up by an active shielding ability. Additionally, I am sorry to say that I fell victim to this nefarious creature and it was able to duplicate one of my magical talents. As another side note, its teleportation ability is strong enough to return from a banishment and subtle enough that I did not notice it in close proximity to myself before it was too late.

The method Chevalier used to determine the cape's true nature is classified, but several higher ranking members of the Protectorate as well as trusted friends have been read into the details. Let's just say I trust his analysis.

Not being familiar with this Faultline or her gang, I took it upon myself to look it up upon your internet for clarification. It is dreadfully out of date. In addition to its listed contacts, she was accompanied by an escapee from the Alchemilla facility capable of manifesting a very strong bounded field, as well as a pyromancer of moderate skill but impressive strength. I did not see anything that would indicate a mechanizer within their group.

As stated before, Shelob is able to utilise other's powers with but a touch. Given that I am hale and hearty, however, I do not believe the side effects are as… lethal as certain Green Maiden's.

Fair Miss Militia, I shall pass along your concerns to my good friend upon his return to the waking world.

—Myrddin

* * *

SENT 2011 JAN 24 09:08:40  
FROM: Cinereal (ashphoenix -at- p39 -dot-prt .gov)  
TO: "Protectorate Level 1" _(classified mailing list)_  
SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: PRIORITY: Revised APB—SHELOB

Does anyone speak wizard? I need a translation.

* * *

SENT 2011 JAN 24 09:13:22  
FROM: Armsmaster (armsmaster -at- pene -dot-prt .gov)  
TO: "Protectorate Level 1" _(classified mailing list)_  
SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: RE: PRIORITY: Revised APB—SHELOB

Faultline has a strong Shaker and Blaster in her gang to add to an existing Blaster and two Strikers. I'll make sure the database is updated soon.

Shelob's encounters in Brockton Bay have coincided with the following capes being present in some fashion:

• Oni Lee  
• Velocity  
• Shadow Stalker  
• Aegis  
• Vista  
• Miss Militia  
• Gallant  
• Clockblocker  
• Battery  
• Assault  
• Lady Photon  
• Manpower  
• Laserdream  
• Shielder  
• Rune

Adding in what we know about Faultline's Crew this list also includes:

• Faultline  
• Gregor the Snail  
• Newter  
• Labyrinth  
• Spitfire

I am attaching the non-classified dossiers for the parahumans in question. You will need to review them to see if any of the demonstrated abilities coincide with anyone on this list. I will be doing the same on my end, cross-referencing it with any available medical reports.

I can tell you that I already have some ideas of who is affected, though I'll withhold my theories so as to avoid confirmation bias.

* * *

SENT 2011 JAN 24 12:03:32  
FROM: Alexandria (alexandria -at- p02 -dot-prt .gov)  
TO: "Protectorate Level 1" _(classified mailing list)_  
CC: "Protectorate Level 2" _(classified mailing list)_,  
"Protectorate Level 3" _(classified mailing list)_,  
Dragon (thedragon -at- theguild -dot-ca)  
SUBJECT: GAG ORDER—"Shelob"

All Protectorate Team Leaders, Senior Members, Wards Leaders,

An emergency meeting with key leaders of the Protectorate and Chief Director Costa-Brown of the PRT has just reached its conclusion. The following constitute direct orders for all levels of the Protectorate and Guild (where applicable):

A gag order is to be enforced on all information regarding the parahuman temporarily designated "Shelob." All information is hereby classified as TOP SECRET and is not to be shared in public or on a public forum. This order is RETROACTIVE. Further information is to be restricted to Level 1 personnel and only on a need-to-know basis. No further speculation is to be made of "Shelob" as a potential Case 53 as this may unfairly hinder ongoing reintegration programs. Until informed otherwise, treat this as a separate, deviant case. Appropriate parties to investigate this "Shelob" are being vetted and appointed. Do not attempt to volunteer your services; if we have need of you then you will be contacted.

The primary witnesses (you know who you are) have already been reached out to. Do not engage them in further discussion regarding this topic.

The Protectorate and PRT stand united in this goal. We do not wish to incite panic not seen since Glaistig Uaine last roamed freely across the world. Even should such fears turn out to be factually baseless, it still has the potential for mass public hysteria.

* * *

SENT 2011 JAN 24 12:43:34  
FROM: Cinereal (ashphoenix -at- p39 -dot-prt .gov)  
TO: "Protectorate Level 1" _(classified mailing list)_  
SUBJECT: RE: RE: RE: RE: RE: PRIORITY: Revised APB—SHELOB

Well, damn. Just when things were getting interesting, Mom came home and told us to shut up.

Oh well. Chevy, let us know when you're done being interrogated.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

UNITED STATES PROTECTORATE  
INTER-OFFICE MEMORANDUM

* * *

SAVED 2011 FEB 23 21:53:07  
FROM: Armsmaster (armsmaster -at- pene -dot-prt .gov)  
TO: Dragon (thedragon -at- theguild -dot-ca)  
SUBJECT: Test Results

In this hypothetical scenario, we've completed our initial review with the help of the New Wave healer. The results will not be conclusive, though she will notice some anomalies surrounding the corona pollentiae of the capes we believe to be affected by Subject.

Our simulations suggest that our affected capes will be:

• Shadow Stalker  
• Aegis  
• Clockblocker  
• Gallant*  
• Miss Militia  
• Dauntless  
• Cricket  
• Victor  
• Othala

Note that this list will be incomplete, as several villains were unable to be captured and submitted to a medical screening. In addition, several capes have declined examination due to personal belief systems, including:

• Battery  
• Assault  
• Triumph  
• New Wave (collectively)

The next step in our simulated research would be _Dragon do I really have to type like this? Plausible deniability is one thing but my auto-correcting software is making this a pain since I have to go back and rewrite half of the_

_(Draft Saved)_


	25. Spider 19

**Spider 19**

This is intolerable. This is _demeaning_.

How did she expect me to take this? Certainly not lying down, that's for sure!

What, as if she expected me to just accept this and move on? Hah! She's got another thing coming for sure!

This… this _betrayal _cannot possibly go unanswered.

When one thing is offered, then summarily withdrawn, that's just—and she calls herself a mercenary? A neutral party?

Hah! More like a lying liar who lies! A villain of the highest degree!

Or is that lowest… _the lowest degree!_

I should fight for what was promised to me! For my _rights!_

Faultline will _rue _the day she chose to cross me!

_Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap… _

{when you offered a drink why do you get a full water bottle and i get a petri dish question mark}

Seated across the large table from me, Faultline lifts an eyebrow. "Do you want to drown? Because I'm pretty sure you trying to drink out of one of these would somehow result in you falling in and never getting out."

…okay she might have a point there.

I mean, not that I think that I'm that clumsy, but if the straw didn't work then…

Wait, can I even use a straw?

We had retreated back to the warehouse we'd initially set up in on the first night of our arrival. I, personally, would have made tracks for home as soon as possible but apparently this was standard operating procedures for Faultline's Crew.

Or as Gregor had explained it, _"__When one normally attempts to avoid a pursuit, distance is usually the best way to do so. Many know this and often times they are successful. The heroes also know of this and so they focus their attentions on the longer range. They patrol their city borders, they seek for unusually determined outgoing traffic, they warn colleagues in likely destinations."_

He'd chuckled. _"__So, we stay put. We keep our movements unhurried and relaxed. We have prepared locations far enough away from our targets to avoid casual discovery, but close enough so as not to fall within their active search areas. Faultline will know the appropriate time to move. She generally does."_

So now the crew is off in their 'living corner'—reading, relaxing, or whatnot. Newter simply looks bored and slightly upset about something. Spitfire's music player is on speaker, just loud enough for the sound to drown out our conversation without carrying outside the walls, giving the two of us some semblance of privacy.

I sullenly dunk my head over the relatively short lip of the plastic tray and start sipping at the shallow pool of water, staring at her in defiance.

I'm not giving in, I'm drinking to prove a point.

And it's a good point too. It'll rock her world. She won't know what's up or down after I'm done proving it to her.

She's eyeing the petri dish with its rapidly falling water level. "Thirsty?"

Oh yeah, she's definitely intimidated. I jab the now-empty dish away, sending it sliding across the table.

Hah! I win! She hasn't even _touched _her own bottle—wait, where was I going with this? Bad me! This is not a drinking contest!

Don't let her see confusion. She's the one who has to explain herself to me. I don't owe her anything. _She _owes _me_. I hold all the cards here.

…Literally, since I yoinked Newter's set when he wasn't looking. Apparently I have hammerspace now and they were a convenient practice tool for me. Also, it's payback for all the times he stole my one-liners. He'll get his deck back once he admits his error.

Faultline stares right back. Hitting me with a piercing glare… that seems to see all… that seems to know all…

Does she know something I don't? Can she tell what I'm thinking? She's a mercenary, she could be crazily good at negotiations.

I'm not exactly the best myself. It's part of the reason why I stopped talking to Dad. It's hard to justify decisions and actions to someone that can shut down your every argument. Much easier to ask for forgiveness than permission anyhow.

Still, I learned _something _from all those faltering attempts. I mustn't show confusion. Mustn't show nervousness.

_Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptap… _

God damnit leg, stop bouncing. No not you—which leg is even _doing _that? I have too many legs! It's over! I'm exposed! I'm done for!

The woman sighs. "I suppose it's futile to use the silent treatment on someone who doesn't even speak. Fine, I'll start."

Wait, what?

"So, you're probably wondering why I'm keeping you near us."

Did—did I just win the opening intimidation game?

…How?

I mean, yes! I'm not fidgeting, I'm _impatient_. Yes, let's go with that…

Wait, what did she just say? I mean, yeah I have wonders—I mean, concerns! I could be Home-home right now! Dad could have taken me to the heroes and explained everything! What gives?!

"Two reasons. The first is that once you had demonstrated sapience I couldn't help but see parallels between you and another group of capes."

Oh, oh I remember this!

{newt said monsters}

"The public refers to them as monstrous capes. The PRT refers to them as Anomalous Case 53. On the surface, we're talking about parahumans whose powers gave them altered appearances; deviations severe enough that they have no hope of maintaining an identity separate from their cape life."

{spider}

"Exactly, at first I thought you might be a rather extreme case of one. However, there's more to being a Case 53 than just a non-standard form, and fortunately you don't fit the criteria."

{fortunate question mark}

"Yes, you are very fortunate that you aren't one. There's something _wrong _about Case 53's. I don't mean them, personally, but how they came to be. They all suffer from retroactive amnesia—they don't remember anything of their lives before they became what they are—and they all possess a tattoo, or rather, a _brand _that marks them. It makes me think that there's something artificial about them, perhaps that they were experimented upon, and that _offends _me."

{so gregor and newter dot dot dot}

"I'm helping them. Trying to rediscover their past. Trying to find out more about what—or _who_—made them. Don't call it a personal quest, rather say it's like a long-term contract."

Okay, so… I might be unlearned about the world, but I'm not that dumb. It seems pretty obvious that Gregor asked her for help and she jumped at the chance to provide it. She can call it a contract, call it a mission, but it's totally a personal quest. She's clearly sympathetic towards his plight and wants to help him.

And she wanted to _use_ me towards that end as well.

{you thought i was c53 and wanted to keep me}

"Precisely. You could have been another clue, another piece of a puzzle so large we haven't even found an edge-piece yet."

That's… rather blunt.

Grrr… 'kay, fine. I can understand that. I don't like it, but it makes sense.

I suppose if I'd actually been an amnesiac it would have helped along with this… _indoctrination_. Unfortunately for you, lady, I do have an actual past plus connections I'd like to maintain, thank you very much.

Moving on.

{two reasons}

"Secondly… how much do you actually know about parahumans? We have powers beyond human ability, yes. But you know not all capes are created equal?"

Do I look like a cape geek? I mean, c'mon… I'm a spider. Everything I know about capes has been through social osmosis. I mean, it's not like I've had a chance to research this stuff after I woke up like this; this phone you gave me doesn't even have internet!

She nods, "I suppose I won't need to bore you with the details then."

Wait, wait! Bore me! I need details! Did you not hear me?! I absolutely said I don't know the—I just sat there and stared at her, didn't I?

Oh crap, um… um…

"Needless to say—"

_TIME OUT!_

I should have done that earlier! Oh God, what do I do? Wait, the answer is simple, I just need to ask my question. Okay, what are the details?! Phone! Phone!

…I can't move. Why can't I move?! Does one of the crew have a sudden paralysis ability I haven't noticed until now? This was a trick! A horrible, horrible trick!

...wait. I'm dumb.

Time in.

"—your powers are an absolute game-changer and even if the details aren't quite known, your interference against New Wave and the Empire can't go unanswered. That means…"

Okay, okay… no need to panic. Need to ask her about powers. That sounds like tremendously important information. Okay…

_Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap… _

"...includes the Empire, the Protectorate, hell—even the ABB has a bounty on your head for some reason."

_…__taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap… _

What are the powers? _Why _are the powers?

_…__taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap… _

Why do my powers make me a game-changer? What makes me so special?

"...has also been some reaching out by parties who normally like to fly under the radar, offering tremendous sums of money in exchange for any…"

_…__taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap… _

Why does this mean I can't go home? Is it dangerous for home? Is it dangerous for me?

"...not what I want for _anyone_, much less you. Believe it or not I'm doing my best trying to…"

Is my Dad in danger? Wait wait wait!

"—and so you can understand why I felt the need to keep you out of the city, at least until things calm down a bit."

Why do my… wait, what?

What did she just say? I missed it. Say it again?!

I hate typing! Send! Send!

ERROR ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀxɪᴍᴜᴍ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ʟɪᴍɪᴛ ʜᴀs ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴇxᴄᴇᴇᴅᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴋᴇᴇᴘ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴍᴇssᴀɢᴇs ᴛᴏ 160 ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀs ᴏʀ ғᴇᴡᴇʀ.

_Goddamnit, stupid piece of—_

SPIDER KICK!

Faultline follows the phone with her eyes as it slides across the table, then turns back towards me. "I understand you're not happy. I wouldn't be happy in your place either. But I suppose this means you have no more questions?"

Burn. In. Hell, text-to-speech app.

She slides her seat back and stands up. "Then I'll give you some space to think things over. You're welcome to join us once you've made a decision."

W—wait! No, shit. Phone! Phone! Bad me! Stupid me!

BLINK!

Um.. umm… is it still working?

_Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap._

{wait}

Gaaah, volume's too low! Where's the button where's the button… there!

_Clickclickclickclickclickclickclick._

Resend!

**{WAIT}**

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Faultline sits across the table from me, arms crossed and head tilted back to point at the ceiling. Her eyes are closed.

This time, Gregor is seated beside her, though his focus is squarely on me. My phone rests securely under one of his large hands.

"You have the attention span of a goldfish," she complains. She drops her head and leans forward. "Let's try this again. You are a _Trump_. It means that your power is to interact with other powers. That is _incredibly_ rare, and Trumps tend to break any established rules."

She leans back and shifts her glare towards Gregor, who dutifully slides the phone towards me.

"You may respond," he tells me.

Um… um… maybe I should get her to explain—

"It means you're fucking special," Faultline snaps.

Gregor holds up a hand in chastisement. "Now now, Miss Faultline, it will be your turn once Miss Tee has had a chance to ask her question."

Gee, I'm _so _sorry! I don't exactly have the ability to do touch typing! I may have a lot of legs to play with, but I'm still doing hunt-and-peck!

{who is after me question mark} I type, then grudgingly slide the phone back to Gregor.

He simply nods, then turns back to his nominal boss. "Now, you may speak."

The stilted conversation continues in this manner for a good while. Gregor carefully moderates the discussion to ensure I get a chance to speak when I need to, then takes the phone away to ensure I'm actually paying attention and not missing anything by trying to interrupt.

The man has the patience of a saint. He sits through repeated explanations over and over with more grace than the person giving it, and at some point he slips away to grab a pad and pen and actually starts _taking notes_ that I can later _boop _into my new pocket.

Faultline's explanation can be summarised down to a few key points:

• Powers that can make a cape get stronger over time are a Big Deal.  
• Powers that can duplicate or steal other cape's powers are an even Bigger Deal.  
• Brockton Bay PRT had tried to clamp down on the news, but most people In the Know were already aware that _something _had gone down in their offices and were looking to find out more.  
• The Empire was looking for me because I made them look bad.  
• The ABB was also looking for me because reasons. Faultline's theory was that they'd just heard the E88 was doing it first and wanted in.  
• The recent fight with the heroes here may or may not hit public awareness in the next few days, but it had definitely put a target on my back as far as the Protectorate was concerned.

To summarise the summary: _EVERYONE _wants a piece of me and going back to the Bay with all of this hanging over my head would suuuuuuck.

"For that, I want to apologise." Faultline pinches at the bridge of her nose and takes on a somewhat pained expression. "I didn't _really _need your assistance—that was just an excuse to get you out of the city and hopefully let the heat die down. I thought I was doing you a favour.

"There wasn't _supposed _to be any interactions with the locals on this job. The plan was to be in and out without anyone the wiser. Our inability to remain under the radar is my failure as the leader. Now, unfortunately, the heroes are aware of you and they'll most likely tie your activities to ours."

Shit. Before all this I could have pleaded neutrality, or at least painted my actions as the honest mistakes of a panicked cape (which I totally was and still am!). Now she's telling me the heroes are gonna think I'm part of a gang?!

{you can explain cut ties or other. keep them from think i'm a villain}

"I'm a _mercenary_," she snaps. "Villain or hero I work for whoever holds my contract. I'm _neutral_."

{neutral mercenary who is breaking word. said you take me home after finish here.}

"That's—" she pauses, then frowns. "That's not _entirely _inaccurate. But trust me when I say I'm not making that decision lightly."

She holds up one hand. "Right now you're a subject of interest to the Protectorate. I don't know what the fallout of this particular event will be, but unless they overreact and think you're the next coming of Eidolon, it's most likely not as bad as what's going on back in Brockton."

That's probably true. I mean, even if I attacked a hero, most of the fighting was done by Faultline and company. I'm just a tiny spider. They'll probably overlook me.

Still, there was one thing nagging at me. I wave towards Gregor until he hands me the phone again.

{why so important i leave bee bee. why not just stay and hide question mark}

She scowls. "Of all the people looking for you, one stands out the most. Coil. The man's a snake, almost literally. He pays to keep my crew on-call and he's very careful not to hire me for any jobs that cross my lines. That said, I have zero doubts that the moment he thinks we can't provide any further use he'll try to burn us."

"You _are _very careful around him," Gregor observes, his first actual intrusion into the conversation. "I have often wondered why you even bother. He cannot possibly be worth the stress dealing with him puts on you. "

"He pays really, _really _well," Faultline promptly admits. "We're in no way dependent on it, but his retainer alone gives us a rather large cushion in our budget and he's always willing to pay a premium whenever he hires us directly."

She sighs. "As an employer, objectively there are few better out there. As a human being, I have concerns. He was fishing for information on you even before the New Wave versus Empire fight and I have _no idea _how he knew about you that early.

"I _cannot_ stress enough how much that bothers me. It suggests he has resources and informants beyond anything I would expect from an organisation of his size. Especially since his group is almost considered a non-faction in Brockton Bay."

{havent even heard of him}

"_Exactly_. Somebody who wants to keep a low profile, yet possesses the funds necessary to keep a group like mine on-call for months at a time? They're the kind of person who likes taking others by surprise. And I hate being surprised."

{so he's sneaky, but what makes him more dangerous than a dragon question mark}

"Probably nothing, I'm most likely overreacting. _But_," Faultline stabs her finger into the table. "When someone who is _that _determined to stay hidden suddenly starts devoting resources on _anything_, my first instinct is to get whatever it is out of their way. Even if only so I can dangle whatever it is in front of them and use it to hike up my rates."

{and if he hires you to bring me in question mark}

"Then I hike up my rates to levels even he should balk at. But he probably won't. He knows my stance on Case 53's and you're close enough to qualify until proven otherwise. It's a line he won't cross unless he decides to burn that bridge completely. And he doesn't know that you're not actually a Case 53."

{but if he did think it was worth it question mark}

Faultline grins, though it's a rather sad and tired looking smile. "I did say it would be problematic to keep you in Brockton Bay."

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

{i want you to take me home}

"Even knowing the risk?"

{it's not any safer for me here than there. especially if the protectorate is after me anyway}

"Very well. Then I have a suggestion, if you'd trust me with this information."

{what question mark}

"Give me your father's name and I'll do my best to help you two reconnect."

{unwritten rules question mark}

"Yes, that's still a thing and I'd understand if you turned down this offer. But in the slight chance that something goes wrong, I can get word out. He won't have to wonder what became of his child. Think of this service as an apology."

{i'll think about on the drive back}

"You have a few days before you have to make a decision. We're not leaving anytime soon."

{what}

"Newter thinks he's spotted a member of the Triumvirate flying around."

Wait, _what?!_

"We… may have drawn more attention than I thought we would."


	26. Spider 20

**Spider 20**

It is a long and uneventful drive back to Brockton Bay.

Apparently when Gregor implied that Faultline had a sixth-sense for the most opportune time to make a break for it, what he really meant was 'whenever she felt like it.'

Twenty minutes after she'd gotten the news that Eidolon was spotted in the Philadelphia skyline, the Crew had packed up their personal belongings and all leftover supplies had been hastily shoved under a tarp in a corner of the building.

This had been in the early hours of the day _just _in time to hit the morning rush hour, so we were hopelessly lost in the haystack of outgoing commuters. Fortunately, whatever device or power Chevalier had used to locate us at a distance was apparently not available to the numerous PRT squads Faultline had implied were supposedly lurking under bridge underpasses or behind traffic signs.

So, uneventful departure. Which equated to extremely boring.

I'm still kind of miffed I didn't get to personally see the (second) greatest hero in the world myself. I remember having a Triumvirate lunch box as a kid, though Alexandria was front and centre on the graphic for that one whilst Eidolon was a tiny,glowing green figure in the background. Also, I didn't exactly have it on me for him to sign.

But really, how often do you get to meet one of your childhood heroes? This could have been a once in a lifetime opportunity! If this isn't proof of Faultline's villainous leanings—despite her protestations of neutrality—then I don't know what is. Only a villain's first reaction would be to run from the really cool heroes.

…Also, there was a slim chance I could have nom'd him. I mean, Eidolon's power is 'yes' so I bet I could have gotten flight from that _somehow_, right?

Right?

Ha~ah… what a wasted opportunity.

Now, instead of leisurely flying home, I'm stuck in a van moving less than ten miles per hour and there's not even Melanie and Gregor's banter to listen to. Instead the larger man seems content to play with his phone, browsing the internet or something. Instead I have the faint sounds of music coming from Emily's headphones to listen to as well as Newter complaining that he'd misplaced his playing cards somewhere. How sloppy of him, he should have kept better track of his belongings.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Hours later—_half a day later_—I'm still stuck in a car. Not the giant passenger van from this morning though, instead it's a pretty beat-up looking hatchback. Not the most impressive vehicle, but I guess it fits in perfectly with this neighborhood.

But after everything it took to get here, it sort of feels anti-climactic.

I should be feeling fulfilled, right? Maybe relieved? Panicked?

My house is finally within walking distance—_my _walking distance—and I don't actually know what I'm feeling. I'm not numb, because I am feeling _something_… I'm just not quite sure what it is.

"This is the street," Melanie says under her breath. She turns off the motor and looks at the passenger seat where my box is strapped in. "Are you sure you want to do this by yourself?"

No, not particularly. Talking to my dad has never been something I've looked forward to even before this all happened. Now that I'm a spider, that just means even more things to explain.

Having backup would be nice, but then I'd have to explain _that _too. On the balance, I think I'd still prefer to deal with it on my own.

I slowly nod.

Melanie grunts and leans on the steering wheel. "You have your phone?"

In answer I mentally reach out to my new pocket and one of Faultline's burner phones materialises in the air and drops to the ground in front of me. I reach down to transmit the message pre-typed into the text to speech app loaded onto it.

{Hi Dad, it's me. Please don't squish me or pass out. I have to talk to you.}

"You can use your name in your message; it has a better chance of working and you can trust me to keep the secret. Besides, it's not like I wouldn't find out anyhow eventually with the info you shared with Gregor and I."

I don't respond to that, instead I _boop_ the phone and shunt it back into my hammerspace then start poking at the lid of the terrarium.

Melanie reaches over and unclasps the latches, letting me slide the lid off and to the side. She rolls down the passenger window.

"Three hours and I come after you, unless you call me earlier for pickup or to say goodbye," she reminds me. "Don't take any stupid risks, Tee."

I use one leg to wave distractedly as I crawl up the door, but turn and give her a nod before I leap out into the chilly evening air.

Grappling threads!

_Thwip. _

If nothing else, the recent exercise I've been getting has improved my athleticism by… leaps and bounds. A quick thread-assisted jump is enough to get me onto the rooftop of the nearest house, and from there it's more or less Parkour!-ing down the street until I reach my Home.

For the longer distances I can also Blink freely as well without having to leave a trail of clone-crumbs. All I have to do is instruct my copies to phase into the weird Labyrinth-reality after I'm gone and they more or less clean themselves up.

Maybe it's littering for Labyrinth, but last I saw she had at least three different worlds to play with. I'm sure nothing bad will happen.

Also, if I forget to leave instructions for old-me I can always double back and shove them into hammerspace. It's not like I have any issues retrieving anything from there either.

Who knew dimensional abilities were so useful?

Ah, I'm letting myself be distracted again. I'm Home! I should be overjoyed!

I should… probably stop thinking about things and just get inside. No wait, I should probably knock or ring the doorbell first.

In a moment.

Aaany second now.

Oh, haha, I'm so silly. I was just imagining what would happen if I rang the doorbell like this. Like, would Dad do the cliche of looking to both sides before looking down?

Would he just scream and slam the door in my face or would he try to squish me?

I… I should probably just use the back door then. Or a window. Line of sight and all.

Yeah, yeah! This is not a good spot. I'll just crawl around to the side of the house. Good job, me! Thinking things through really… really does help.

To a side… window. Oh.

Oh, h-hey Dad.

Shit, did he see me?

Wait, it's bright in there and dark out here. How does that work again? Does that make it harder or easier?

Well, he _probably _can't see me. Why would he? He's busy. Or he should be, at any rate.

Why isn't he at work? That's the real question here. He's never actually been home this early for almost as long as I can remember.

Yeah… I may have misled Melanie back there. I wasn't _really _planning on seeing him.

What do I do? Do I actually go in and say, 'hi'? Do I actually need to _explain _stuff to him?

No, no I probably shouldn't ruin his evening. Especially if he's entertaining company—wait, he has _guests _over?

Hang on, that's a woman! He's totally hanging out with a—oh, I think that's Lacey. I… think I remember her. Gosh, I can't remember the last time I've seen her.

And there's Kurt. I guess he's hanging out with his friends. Having… yep those look alcoholic—having a drinking party.

He's having a night in, I guess. Look at them, swapping stories or telling jokes? Must be jokes, since they're all laughing. Or maybe just funny stories?

I think he's enjoying himself. God, when's the last time I saw him doing that? I don't think he ever did it when I was still around.

I mean, look at that, Dad's laughing so hard he started crying! Oh man, Kurt can't possibly let that go. Yep, he's hugging him now. Got to milk the embarrassment for as much as they can for later. I'm surprised Lacey isn't whipping out the camera for blackmail later.

I can't ruin this for him… he—he looks like he's finally in a better place.

This was a mistake. I should go. He's clearly happier without me around. I never was a good daughter these last few years anyhow. I bet I just reminded him of Mom.

Ergh… but what to tell Melanie? If I call her back now she'll know I chickened out early. I'm not about to wait an hour or two to pretend I had a heart-to-heart either.

I'll just go… elsewhere. Good thing I know of an Elsewhere I can go to. I don't know what it'll be like, but anywhere's probably better than here.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Hmm. This place is very… gear-y. Big empty vault so large I can't even see the ceiling. The walls have lots of sprockets and gizmos. There's a term for this sort of thing… clockpunk? I think it's clockpunk, but I'm not seeing any clocks. Just some weird bronzeish statues with obvious joints… everywhere.

Hello?_(hello? hello…?)_

Echo! _(echo! echo…!)_

Well, a bit creepy, but I guess it beats staying out in the cold for a few hours.

Still, it's a bit lonely. I mean, it's not like Labyrinth is constantly paying attention to whatever's in her worlds.

Orrr maybe she is? Have you ever had that feeling where someone is watching you? Well multiply that by about a hundred times and you'd get what I'm feeling right about now.

Oh, one of the statues has a hand next to it. I think she found me. That was… that was pretty quick actually.

Oh well, if memory serves, I should get to that statue—Parkour!—and thennn…

_Poke. _

"Clockworks (_ahah!_) today, huh Elle? I guess you're in a—oh geezus you've learned how to summon the spider." Emily frowns and puts down her book to address me directly. "Weren't you with Faultline? Or did Elle actually learn how to make statues of you? In which case, shiiiiiit."

The statue's upper torso is sticking out of the wall beside Elle's head, with me standing on its shoulder. With a thought, my phone drops out of the air and into Elle's waiting hand, who seems to have anticipated the action. I reach over and tap at the screen.

{Hi Dad, it's me. Please don't squish me or pass out. I have to talk to you. are you two following me question mark}

Uh… oops. I guess I forgot to clear the first message.

Emily gives me an arch look. "First, we're back at the club. Second, _did you ditch Faultline?!"_

She holds out her hand. "Gimme the phone."

Uh, wait? I can teleport? I mean, I know I can Blink. But this is pretty far out there. I mean, all I did was slide into Labyrinth's world and then I… wait, just what _is _Labyrinth's power?

"Elle? The phone, please."

Elle flicks her wrist, flipping the phone in a neat arc to land in Emily's outstretched hand.

Nice throw. Wait, no!

Now she's going to snitch on me! Elle! You're aiding and abetting a tattletale!

"Not liking that gleam in your eyes. Elle, pacify Tee for me please?"

No dice! The whole point of this was to fool Melanie for an hour or two until I could get baaa—

Uh. Wait.

Wait wait wait.

Can I even go back Home? Back to The Labyrinth!

Okay, still spooky empty clockwork vault. Still lots of bronze statues, okay that hasn't changed. Um… where's the handy portal back to my house?

Oh, well crap.

My only landmark is Elle's body parts, like her head over there. And if I go there…

Yep, I'm on a new thing above her head.

_Poke. _

Okay. Note to self: The Labyrinth is apparently a one-way ticket to… well, Labyrinth.

_Pat pat. _

Heeeeeee~ _No!_

No, I can't let myself be distracted!

"...yeah, she somehow made her way back to our room. She's here right now."

Oh no, it's too late. My life is over.

"Elle's keeping her from running away. Did you want me to pass along a message?"

Well, if the gig's up anyhow…

_Pat pat. _

Ah, bliss…

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"I don't _believe _you," Melanie growls. "Do you know how many people in similar positions to yours would _leap _at the chance you just ran away from?"

I'm in my box, I'm in my Home. Can't hear you, I'm asleep. La la la la la~

"Opportunities they'll _never_ get the chance to have. Lives they'll never reconnect to, because someone took that away from them."

Not feeling guilty, nosiree. Can't guilt trip a spider.

"Now, partially thanks to you and the time you've made me waste, I have a new mystery and _you _are going to help me solve it."

I—wait, what? I'm no detective.

"Gregor!" she suddenly barks.

"Yes, Miss Melanie?" the large man asks from the doorway.

"You're certain of what you found?"

"It is not quite a matter of public record, but not exactly high-security either. The only real difficulty would be knowing the name to search for in the first place."

"Elle, if you can, get Tee to stop sulking and coax her out of that damned box. Gregor, when do public visiting hours close?"

"Soon. Just barely less than an hour."

Wait, where are we going?

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Melanie and Elle—I guess they're trying to limit the ways I can escape—have taken me to… Brockton General?

"You said your father's name was Daniel Hebert, right? Not Herbert?"

Since we're somewhat incognito, I can't exactly answer her vocally so I settle for raising one leg. One for yes, two for no.

Still, why are we here?

Is Dad sick? He can't be sick. I just saw him partying with his friends.

…is he a fake? Was that a fake Dad? Is someone trying to trick Kurt and Lacey? Or trying to trick me? Did I actually do the right thing by not drawing anyone's attention when I was Home?!

Yeah, go me! Way to sidestep an ambush!

With them dressed in civvies and Elle's distinctive hair hidden beneath a dark-coloured wig that matches Melanie's locks, the two… still don't look related at all. But at least they don't look like their usual selves, which I suppose is good enough for whatever Melanie has in mind.

I'm tucked away in Elle's lowered hoodie. The girl needs bigger clothes, or she needs a growth spurt. There's barely enough room in this pocket for me to hide in even partially curled up.

"Hey," Melanie greets a tired-looking nurse at the reception desk. "Sorry for the late hour, but we just recently heard the news and have been driving all day."

"Public visiting hours are only for the next ten minutes," the receptionist says in an attempt at politeness. "Unless you're family?"

"Unfortunately, no. But ten minutes should be good enough for tonight."

"Name?" the nurse barely glances at the two as she flips through windows on her computer.

"We'd like to visit Taylor Hebert."

…what.


	27. Spider 21

**Spider 21**

What.

That's not a question. It's a statement. What.

Being a cape hasn't been anything like I would have expected. Whenever I thought about getting powers, I assumed it would result in fighting bad guys, saving the day, and making the world a better place. If I weren't so tiny and squishable, I would have thought I could become a hero.

Instead it's been one gut punch after another, everything shattering my worldview just a little bit more.

I'm a spider.

I'm subsisting on bugs, rats, birds, and… crickets.

Heroes are attacking me.

Villains are taking care of me.

I mean, I've had all these weeks to come to terms with this existence. By all rights I should be used to this by now.

But… what.

What.

what.

Wut.

Wat.

What what _what?!_

As 'Melody and Eleanor Fitzgerald' (as declared by the visitor's log) are ushered into the coma ward by a helpful, but tired-looking nurse, the word just keeps repeating over and over in my head. This mantra doesn't subside when we turn one final corner and are led into a large room filled with curtained-off partitions.

Wait, what's this?

I don't even rate a private room?! This is nothing like the movies!

The nerve of these people!

Still, everybody else takes it in stride so I guess I do to. It's perfectly normal. Completely reasonable. Lots of… curtains. Empty beds where they aren't closed off. Beeps where they are.

Beep.

Beep.

Hiss.

Beep.

Good lord, it's a good thing coma patients are dead to the world. I've been here barely thirty seconds and all of this beepery-boopery is getting on my nerves. I think all this would drive me insane by the end of my first hour.

No wonder the nurses look tired.

Our guide moves with brisk efficiency, checking a PDA for reference then manoeuvring through the aisles with confident and practiced strides.

One final curtain is drawn to the side.

Oh.

Oh God.

That's me.

"Ten minutes," she reminds us firmly, but not without traces of sympathy. She spins on her heel and leaves us there, her slippers barely making a sound across the ground.

The figure on the bed is skinny, if the drape of the bedsheets are anything to go by. Pale skin, with dark, curly hair, and—wait, wait! She doesn't have glasses! I've spotted the loose thread, it's a fake! She's a faaaaaake!

…er, coma patients don't need to wear glasses do they?

Arrgh.

'Melody' gently nudges 'Eleanor' into the partition as she turns her head back and forth across the other nearby beds, then steps inside and closes the curtain.

"This is her?" she asks in a low voice. She checks the clipboard at the foot of the bed, then nods. "This is Taylor Hebert. So what does that make you?"

Elle brings her hands to her hoodie and shakes it slightly. When that doesn't seem to budge me she lifts the hood up and dumps me out to sprawl across the top of her head.

"Tee?" Melanie asks again. A bit louder, a bit more firmly. "Give me a sign here."

A sign? What sign can I possibly give?

Should I shake a leg? Should I do a jig?

What can I do in the face of _this?!_

"A yes or a no, might suffice."

Oh. That I can do.

Raise a leg. One for yes, two legs for no.

Is this Taylor Hebert? Simple. I just need to—

I need to…I don't know.

If she's Taylor, then… then who am I?

I'm me. But what does that _mean?_

Existential crisis!

Somehow it's not so funny anymore. This isn't like direct copies created by my Blinks. This is me. Old-me. Old-_human_-me.

Um, maybe I should make certain of that.

p-parkour.

Neither woman moves as I land on the sheets. This… person under me seems small. Diminished. She doesn't seem to need assisted breathing, but if it weren't for the annoying beeping machines around her, I'd think she was a corpse or a statue. She just… doesn't seem real. It just feels uncanny.

I glance towards Melanie and Elle, then back to… me.

Nobody stops me as I slowly crawl forward and reach out to poke the girl's cheeks. They aren't rosey at all, but almost sallow.

_Moosh. Moosh. Moosh._

I know this skinniness.

One leg traces the thin lips from one end to the other. I know this too-wide mouth.

A stray, oily lock of hair is lifted from the pillow. I know this hair. It's Mom's hair.

I know me.

But am _I _me?

God, this is getting confusing.

I spin around in place to look at Melanie and Elle once more. Do I think this comatose girl is Taylor?

One for yes, two for no.

I lift one leg.

Then I collapse against the rough fabric as I lose all strength in the rest of my legs and I cover my eyes.

I'm not crying. You're crying.

Spiders can't cry.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_Pat pat._

When I come back to the world, Elle is seated beside the bed in a chair provided for that purpose. She has one hand gently gliding against my head, but the other is holding Other-me's (Old-me? Real-me? Human-me?) hand.

Melanie is pacing by the foot of the bed whilst she flips through the medical chart. "No prior hospitalisations, no family history of strokes or seizures, nothing that explains her current condition," she mutters. "In fact, aside from one long stint of antibiotics, from the diversity of the treatments she's received, I'd say the doctors are just as mystified."

Something about my posture must alert her to my return to coherency, since she pauses in the middle of a spin. "Back with us, then?" Her tone lacks the clipped intonation of accusation, to my surprise. I sort of expected her to be more angry with me.

She looks around, even though the view of our surroundings hasn't changed. "Unfortunately your little breakdown has eaten up most of our time, and this isn't the sort of place to have a proper conversation anyhow." She replaces the chart on its hook. "Finish up whatever you need to do and get back to your hiding spot."

Anything I need to do, huh?

What do I need? I need to figure out who I am. I need to assert my sense of self-identity.

I reluctantly crawl out from under Elle's magical fingers and back up to the girl's face.

_Moosh moosh moosh. _

Is it wrong that I'm feeling just a smidge better for squishing my doppelgänger's cheeks together?

I can't even explain why, it just feels silly. Silly equates to lightheartedness? Lightheartedness equates to… happy thoughts?

I guess that's as good an explanation as any.

What else makes me happy?

…

I bet the nurses don't check the back of her neck very often.

Nom.

"Tee, _no!"_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

The hospital doors slide closed with barely a click. In my head, though, it's like a thunderous, echoing boom that seals my fate.

Melanie's hand is clamped to Elle's hooded head, her slumped posture reminiscent of a recalcitrant child's as she is forced to march through the parking lot.

The nurses may titter and gossip about misbehaving visitors and public displays of discipline, but that just means they aren't paying attention to the not-so-tiny spider (I know my old-body too well, I have to admit that I'm a growing spider when I'm bigger than my boobs) half squished between Elle's head and her hood.

"Good. The universe hasn't imploded yet," Melanie observes as she walks us to her hatchback. "I didn't think anything would happen if you tried to steal powers from yourself, but it's always nice to get confirmation that the end of the world is not yet upon us." She helps Elle into the passenger seat before circling back to the opposite side and dropping herself behind the steering wheel.

"Proper introductions," she says after we pull out onto the main road. She raises one hand to tap her chest. "Melanie Fitts. Pleased to finally meet you, Taylor Hebert. Although," she says nonchalantly as she pulls up to a stoplight "if you ever address me by 'Miss Fitts' I'm going to smack you." Her eyes flick in my general direction, "Consider that your only warning."

"Gregor… he had an air bubble under his cheek for…" Elle pipes up haltingly. She frowns, "For…"

"The better part of an hour," Melanie finishes for her. "Which sounds a lot more impressive once you realise just how hard it is to do _anything _to that sac of fluid he calls his body."

I crawl halfway out from under Elle's hood, one leg resting on her cheek for a brief moment, though she doesn't seem to mind. I drop down into her lap and pull my phone out of storage to drop beside me.

{am i taylor}

"You're the only one who can answer that," Melanie answers, stepping on the gas as the stoplight shifts. "For what it's worth, I don't think you're a projection. For one thing, assuming nobody's been moving that body in the hospital, you being with us in Philly would mean that your range would outstrip anything I've ever heard of. However, that just makes it unlikely, not impossible—but I'm still leaning towards no."

She eyes me briefly again. "How do you think of yourself?"

{i am me question mark}

"And is 'me' the same as 'Taylor'?"

I… well, shit. Have I ever referred to myself by name? I'm not sure.

Bad me—_fuck!_

Am I the copy? I don't think I am; but I think, therefore I am.

…That sounded a lot more profound in my head. But what does that prove?

Melanie seems to notice my lack of an answer for what it is. "Like I said, it's something only you can answer. Are you Taylor Hebert or some sort of weird power-related duplicate? Is the girl in the hospital Taylor Hebert or the shell left behind when you emerged as… well, _that?"_

{how can i know for sure question mark}

Her jaw clenches for a moment. "Maybe you don't have to. I can think of at least two people who could tell you that not knowing who you _were _has no bearing on who you _are._"

Her eyes flick towards me briefly before refocusing on the road. "What made Taylor Hebert who she was? What makes you who you are?"

_Who was Taylor?_

She was a girl without friends. A girl with a broken family whom she missed terribly. She was someone who once wanted to share the world with her best friend. Someone who probably could have had a bright future ahead of her if she'd been living somewhere—_anywhere_—other than Brockton Bay.

But she was also someone who once believed Dad when he said there were things worth saving. That things could get better. She believed in a pipe-dream: that the Bay could be fixed.

She was a girl who believed in heroes.

_Who am I? _

I'm someone with no family to speak of, because who could stand to be related to me as I am now? I'm someone who has a small circle of maybe-friends or maybe-acquaintances. Accomplices? Relatable kidnappers?

I'm someone trying to do my best to survive in a place where it seems like everyone and everything is trying to kill me. Unfortunately it also means that I'm someone who miiiiight have found herself on the wrong side of the law in the process of self-defence.

My musings are interrupted by a loud series of staccato noises, like firecrackers being launched in clusters. The sound echoes through the streets and are easily heard through the car's windows. Melanie curses softly under her breath and signals a lane change, preparing to turn at the next intersection.

{where are you going question mark}

"Away from whatever that is," Melanie replies.

{but we could help question mark}

"Chances are it's some gang members running into opposing gang members. There's actually not a lot of direct violence against innocents in Brockton Bay. Just random collateral damage."

{we can stop them from doing damage then}

"A grateful public doesn't pay the bills, Taylor. It sucks, but it's a fact of life. Trust me, it's not worth getting involved with."

{mercenary}

"Guilty as charged."

I stare at Melanie—at _Faultline_—then turn to look back out the window. The sounds of gunfire still crack through the air, albeit more sporadically than before, and have been joined by the backdrop of wailing sirens.

I guess there's one thing that still blurs the line between me and the girl in the hospital bed.

I also believe that things can get better. But where Dad's plan fell through was that he tried to work within a failing system. A city's government is powerless against villains and gangs that have enough parahuman muscle to make any prospect for revitalisation a costly one.

Clearly capes have more of a say in daily life than most people would care to admit. Fortunately, I happen to _be_ one now. Even if I have no support, that doesn't change the fact that I'm one of those _someones _with significant parahuman muscle.

I can't rely on Faultline's help, because she feels like all of that is beneath her. That indifference towards unpowered gang members is grating, but not exactly anything new. Even the local heroes tend to ignore normal gangbangers in favour of participating in the cape on cape fights. So, if things are to get better, then I can't rely on the Protectorate either—especially if Faultline is correct in that they don't like me much either.

But, like Taylor, I still believe _someone _can change things up for the better. I still believe in the _idea _of heroes.

Does that make me her, or am I just being me? Am I the copy, or a mind-transferred original?

Does it matter? At the end of the day, I want to be that someone who will fight the bad guys, save the day, and make the world a better place.

I guess Faultline was on to something. Taylor or not, copy or original, it doesn't really matter what I started out as. I am what I am _now_. That advice was pretty helpful after all.

It does make me feel a little bit guilty, though.

{youre a mercenary}

"Mhmm. So what?"

{im a spider}

I reach out and _boop _the phone back into hammerspace. Then I climb onto Elle's shoulder and pat her head as high as I can reach, looking back down the street we had just left.

"Bye, Tee," she says quietly.

"Wait—"

Blink!

Just before all sensation drops away, I hear Faultline uttering one last confused, flat, "…what."


	28. Spider 22

**Spider 22**

There's a term I've heard from some of the geeks at my schoo—her sch—_at school_. Whatever.

_Linear fighters, quadratic wizards._

The phrase describes a situation in some types of games where most 'fighting' type characters like warriors or knights start out fairly strong but have a fairly predictable growth. I mean, they start out by hitting things hard. Then they increase their strength and hit things harder. Then they get better weapons… and hit things harder.

By contrast, a magical user might start out with a fairly basic spell like a magic missile. It's not a very strong attack and a wizard runs the risk of being knocked out by a particularly strong breeze. But give that same wizard time and space; space so that they're not directly under any threat and time to to learn how to do more stuff. Their effectiveness grows in strange, unpredictable, and _exponential _ways.

Suddenly, before you know it, they're hiding across the city pulling down fiery meteors from space and that really strong knight can only throw down his sword in helpless disgust and await the inevitable.

The way that Faultline explained it, capes are generally like fighters. Most parahumans, once they obtain a power, are limited to whatever that power does. They might find little quirks and tricks of using it, they become more experienced in the nuances, but ultimately they still only have that power to rely on.

Capes with a power centred around building impossible technologies are the general exception to that rule, which is why Armsmaster is the leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate and not someone like Miss Militia. Sure, she's been rumored to be able to create nuclear weapons with her power, but from what you'd hear on the streets, Armsmaster probably can deploy some sort of radiation shield from his _halberd _of all things. Then stick her with the pointy end.

News reports have already shown him doing similar things against Lung and his fires, so… that's probably not too far a stretch.

So parahumans like Armsmaster are relatively common example of a cape that requires some time to ramp up and become a credible threat, and the leader of the Brockton Bay Protectorate has certainly been active long enough to be such a thing. Faultline then singled me out as something she called a 'Trump' and is presumably something much rarer.

She also made particular note of the fact that my abilities made me stronger over time. That makes sense, if we assume my power is to copy other capes' powers, then the more encounters I can survive after nomming someone, the better I become. Then I have an easier time surviving the next encounter, an easier time getting into someone's face, and so my ability and survivability continues to escalate.

That makes me the wizard in this analogy. Who knows, maybe I can get a cape power that lets me rain down rocks from the sky.

Magical Girl Wizarding Me has a decent ring to it.

That reminds me, I should choose a cape name of my own at some point. Identity issues aside, I probably shouldn't use the name 'Taylor' for any _official _outings and 'Tee' just seems… uninspired.

Still. If I'm a squishy wizard just starting out, then that just means it's up to me to buy myself some time. I need to play it safe until I can wield phenomenal cosmic powers.

Experience has shown me that I can't quite go toe-toe with other capes and win. I can certainly surprise them and nom them, but generally I've either been forced to escape immediately or let other people around me handle the takedowns.

Ha~ah… having Spitfire or even Newter to draw attention from me would have been suuuuper useful. But nope! I'm my own spider! I am perfectly capable of doing things by myself!

Though without having that backup, engaging a cape in a straight one-on-one fight would probably not end well for me. I'll need to be sneaky about it. Ambush them from unexpected angles and go straight for the jugular.

…not literally, of course. I'm pretty sure that however much the heroes are misconstruing my alignment now, it's several magnitudes less than if I was actually killing people. Heroes just don't _do _that and I doubt they'd tolerate any of their number that did.

Nope.

So, I need to be a sneaky ambusher whenever I run into a cape. And when I don't…

_Crash! Tinkle tinkle… _

"You moron!" a voice loudly hisses, easily carrying through the quiet streets. "There could have been an alarm on that!"

"Well, there wasn't," another voice defends himself. "And it was faster than trying to jimmy the lock."

When I don't have a cape opposing me, there's always gang members. They can still squish me, but at least I won't be set in fire as they do it.

It's good practice.

So here, we have a clear case of breaking and entering. Some poor soul is getting his store robbed by nefarious malcontents. It's hardly anything unique to Brockton Bay, but I need to gauge my limits and that's not done by throwing myself into another cape melee.

One step at a time.

Also, there hasn't been another gangbanger skirmish like the one I charged headlong into last week. More of those would certainly be helpful, but I guess I overestimated just how often the groups openly clash in large-scale engagements.

So, over the past few days I've had to make do with roughing up petty criminals much like these two would be robbers. It's still dangerous. I mean, anyone taking on things multiple times your size would be in some sort of risk. But I'm almost getting this to the point where these are Dire Rat-level opponents for me. Not that I've been seeing a lot of those lately.

Just normal rats. Maybe mini rats?

Shut up. I know what's going on. Let me have my willing disbelief.

So, first things first. Secure the exits. Are they… yep, they've gone inside and sound like they're ransacking the place. This is a clear sign of wrongdoing, so it completely absolves me of inflicting citizen's justice.

It's like a good samaritan, right? Totally selfless.

So, a few non-sticky threads in the window… aaand that should be enough to hamper their escape. Of course, got to leave enough room for me, that'd be silly if I got snagged up by my own webs.

Hup~ into the air I go aaand…

_Thwip._

Wheeeeeee—_ohcrapdidIcheckthelengthofthethreadproperlyyyyyy?!_ Phew I made it through the window. Now, on to the ceiling!

"Sshhh! Did you hear that?"

Insert cliche phrase in three… two…

"Hear what?"

I need to count faster. Or _you_. You need to answer _slower_. You're going down first. I'm sick and tired of people interrupting or stealing my one-liners.

The thieves have broken into your average corner market. Not a whole lot of traditionally worthwhile loot, but preserved food, booze, and cigarettes are probably quite valuable to some people. What this does mean is several rows of chin-height aisles formerly filled with products, random tripping hazards on the floor that used to be on the shelves, and one confused would-be thief staring at the bullet-proof glass over the counter.

He looks as if he's probably debating if he can squeeze through the small hole at the base of it. His partner in crime is no help in that regard, instead busy shoveling packs of gum and breath mints into a tattered backpack.

Look around, soon-to-be-victims… of _justice_. Victims of Justice. Mustn't forget that, because being just plain victims is a slightly worse connotation for their attacker. Anyhow, look around and bask in the weight of your misdeeds.

Look at all of the damage you have wrought for your petty gains, and know you will be judged. I mean, this stuff is pretty low quality even for a corner store. Like, seriously? Anyhow, feel free to look around, just so long as you don't look up. Because… y'know, this is sort of a night attack and I'm… white.

Not that there's anything wrong with being white. Some of my best friends are white. It's just not a colour that blends in very well in the darkness.

Actually, what colour is this ceiling that I'm walking on? If it's also kinda white-ish, then white-on-white might not be such a bad thing. Hmm…

_Poke poke_. I think it _is _white. Success! Go team white! Not that there's anything wrong with _not_ being whi—ah, nevermind.

Where was I? Oh yes, death from above. But it's not just dropping onto their heads and biting at will. There's a _science _to it.

Well, if you count bashing yourself against a problem until you get better results as 'science'. But that's like the definition of experimentation right? Which is science-y.

Lawyered!

Anyhow, it's actually not that complicated. A few repurposed sticky threads to make loose objects fall to the floor and they get nervous. One of two things happens after that: they either leave, and my job is done! Or, they gather their courage… and split up looking for whatever made the noise.

Guess what these two decided to do? Don't they know you never split the party?

Ah well, next step is to wait for them to be out of each other's sight. Which they should be in just a few… more… steps…

Now, all I have to do is follow Mr. Countus Interruptus and… well, drop onto his head and attack at will.

Hey, I never said I was a _good _scientist.

Well, there's still a few things I've been trying. Like how to keep them from screaming. I mean, yes it's demoralising for whoever I'm fighting and it's a big ego boost to see how much I am feared by the underworld in so little a time. But at the same time, they're loud. And it doesn't synergise very well for continued surprise attacks.

I've tried going for a fast knockout, but apparently that's not yet within my capabilities. I've tried covering their mouth with webs, but that just makes the scream a bit muffled but still audible.

The less said about trying to cover their mouths with me, the better.

Webs don't work. Poison doesn't work. Stuffing a shield down their throat doesn't work—_andmayhavescaredmesillyuntilhestartedbreathingagain_. Insanity is trying to do the same thing over and over and expecting different results.

Good thing I'm trying different things then, I am perfectly sane!

Now then, let's try a garrote.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Okay, what have we learned?

Choke holds only work if you can actually apply tension to the choking mechanism. Simply wrapping a thread around a guy's neck doesn't actually do much unless I anchor it to something. And I'm just not that strong.

On a completely unrelated note, I've found a new entry for the 'makes them scream louder' category.

Oh well. Overall goal was met. I stopped a robbery and left two guys passed out on the floor for the owner or the police to find in the morning. I had to fall back on biting them since using threads to tie them up would be a big, obvious clue that would tell someone to look for a spider. But I'm ninety-percent certain that the groups I did over the last week survived, so these guys should too. Plus, I'm sure they were too panicked to notice me or give coherent descriptions to the authorities.

I'm doing my part! I'm cleaning up the city, one robbery at a time.

It's still not to the level of actually taking out the gangs, but I'm getting valuable experience taking out people much bigger than I am using relatively mundane means. I figure maybe another day or two doing this and maybe I'll escalate towards looking for any suspicious gatherings.

Still, this does seem rather unfulfilling. But, I have to remind myself that I'm not doing this for my own benefit. Someday people will look back on this and see me as a hero I am, simply forced to do some unsavory things because I was dealt a bad hand. I'm doing good for the city in ways that the normal police or the heroes are unable or unwilling to do so.

And then everyone will be like, 'Wow you! You're so awesome! You're like, ten times better than Alexandria or Eidolon. Because you're so strong and cute and awesome! And twenty times better than Faultline, who pretends to be a non-villain when she's totally a meanie.'

Er, where was I? Oh yeah, so not entirely for my own benefit.

…normal criminals are getting boring, when is a cape going to show up?

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

A mugging!

An actual mugging! I almost thought these were a myth!

See, usually it's gang on gang violence, or random acts against property. I had almost given up on helping an honest-to-goodness innocent passerby fending off some whacko in a dark alley!

I don't know if it's because Brockton Bay has a higher class of criminal, if television lied to me, or if the locals have just assumed it's always dangerous on the streets so the ones who don't bother to take precautions are few and far between. All I know is that some guy is pulling some lady into a dead end and getting kind of grabby with her—trying to grab her purse or something.

I wonder why he didn't just try to nab it on the sidewalk and run off if the first try didn't work. Why bother going through the effort get her alone and make another purse snatch attempt?

Wait, why am I still standing here watching? I should probably get down there and help her!

Hmm… maybe I should wait until he knocks her out or something. I'd rather not have witnesses and doing my own knocking out of a potentially innocent one out sort of rubs me the wrong way. Yeah, let's wait for a bit.

_BOOM._

Ooor, I could get my once-in-a-week mugger poached by some hussy in a too-short skirt. That was quite the landing. A very stylish three-pointer. I also have to respect the air-time she got with that throw. She's stronger than she looks.

Well, nuts. There goes my mugging.

Owww, he's gonna have some nasty friction burns on his face after that landing. Wow, he's getting back up. Pulling out a knife?

Brave? Stupid? Brave… or stupid?

Oof, I don't think his arm is supposed to bend that way.

Uh, now he's trying to resort to name-calling. I don't think that's gonna wound her, buddy. Maybe you should just quit whilst you're not so far behind. Okay, I'm gonna have to go with 'stupid'.

_Boom_.

Owww, that trash dumpster will never be the same again. Did he just bend the frame? Is that guy a parahuman with a durability superpower? What's a cape doing mugging ladies for purses?

Oh, wait, maybe he doesn't have one. He's uh… he's not moving. Miniskirt girl looks suddenly nervous. Okay, she's definitely someone who doesn't know her own strength.

Um… is he dead? He looks kind of dead. No—wait, he's breathing.

Do—do I need to protect the mugger? This girl seems very—oh! Oh! I recognise her now, that's Glory Girl! Glory Girl from New Wave!

…Why does Glory Girl look like she's about to put some random schmuck six feet under? Should I protect this guy from her?

I mean, he's already got one foot in the grave, it seems. Not that I can be certain from way up here. It's not like I have any medical training.

But she looks upset. Like, in the I'm-going-to-punch-your-face-in kind of upset, and… I don't think his face can take any more of that.

Hmm, on one hand, I don't want to engage on another hero.

On the other, flight.

Decisions, decisions…


	29. Spider 23

**Spider 23**

The 'fight', such as it was, is over in less than a minute.

It's roughly five more minutes before Glory Girl's reinforcements arrive.

She's spent the intervening period reassuring the would-be mugging victim and sending her on her way after promising to watch over the offender. After the victim leaves she spends the rest of the time slowly spinning through the air in a half-reclined position, mostly staring at her phone with occasional glances into the surrounding area.

Overall, it's pretty boring. I'm sort of glad that I never tried to wait for police or other people to show up for my own take downs.

A shadow fills the entrance to the sidestreet and a cautious voice calls out. "Victoria?"

New Wave's poster child completes her spin with a sudden burst of speed and straightens into a more vertical position. "Panacea!" she cries in relief. Then she raises her free hand and cocks a finger in admonishment. "And it's 'Glory Girl' when I'm on the job!"

"It's 'Victoria' when I need to scold you like the troublesome sister you are," Panacea returns as she walks down the alleyway. The shorter girl is covered in loose white robes with an oversized hood trimmed in red, reminiscent of a fantasy cleric. There's brief stutter in her stride when she notices Mr. Mugger laid low at her sibling's feet. "…Really? _Again?"_

"Ehh…" Glory Girl drawls nervously. "I thought he was trying to rape some lady. He was awfully handsy and intent on dragging her away from the main street. Plus some other things."

Glory Girl and Panacea, from the other half of the New Wave's family dynasty. If Photon Mom is known for having kids that are more or less mirrors of her own power, then her sister and co-leader Brandish is known for being… different?

Where Brandish has the ability to transform into a flying will o'wisp and being the melee counterpart to the Protectorate's Miss Militia (creating _all _the swords as opposed to _all _the guns), her two children are each fairly distinct as well.

Glory Girl lacks any of the forcefields or glowy lasers her cousins are known for, but she has super-toughness, super-strength, and flight. Basically the so-called 'Alexandria Package' that is shared by a host of other capes that emulate the number two of the Triumvirate.

Panacea, on the other hand, is one of the best healers in the entire world. Whilst there are plenty of capes with regenerative powers, few can extend that healing factor to others. Even in Brockton Bay, the so-called cape capitol of America, we have but two. Though she has nothing similar to the rest of her family's flight, energy, or shields, she can heal _anything _that physically ails _anyone_. Something about no brains though, so I guess she can't cure stupid. I bet her family is super proud of her.

Well, maybe her sister takes her just a bit for granted, judging by the annoyed look she's being thrown.

"… slingshot break to his ribs, fractured clavicle, broken mandible, broken scapula, fractured sternum, bruised lung, broken ulna, broken radius—"

"I get it, I get it, already!"

"Are you sure about that? Because I wasn't even halfway done. This is the sixth time you've nearly killed someone and asked me to cover it up for you!"

Wow, either a really horrible case of does-not-know-her-strength or she has some unresolved anger issues to work through.

"It's not like that, Ames," Glory Girl protests. "It's just, these last few weeks have been really suspicious! I've got a trusted source telling me about that mystery cape that attacked us earlier but nobody else seems to have heard about. Plus there's also been someone attacking random people recently and leaving them for others to find. All of these people being hospitalised and nobody even knows who's doing it!"

Wait, what? Have I been targeting the wrong part of the city? Why am I settling for petty thieves when I could be going after a mystery assaulter?

"They were criminals," Panacea responds flatly. "Are you really concerned for their welfare or jealous that someone is getting to them before you do?"

A mysterious and violent _vigilante!_ This is like something out of a noir novel! Man, I'm missing all of the fun! I haven't heard anything about this!

"It's about _accountability_," Glory Girl hisses. "I know you don't like doing hero-ing like the rest of us, but this goes against everything Mom and Aunt Sarah stand for! He may be targeting criminals but this guy isn't even calling the police. It's making the gangs tetchy and nobody can make sense of a pattern. For all we know he's just beating them up for the fun of it!"

"Y-you seemed to be having a lot of fun throwing my ass around the pavement, b-bitch," the man on the ground groans, apparently not wanting to be completely forgotten.

Panacea sighs from her crouched position and turns her attention back to him. "Hi, Mister Wannabe Gangster? My name is Panacea. I can probably heal you of everything that happened to you. But you just called my sister a bitch. That doesn't seem very smart of you."

She pokes the exposed skin of his arm briefly and he hisses in pain. "Now be quiet whilst the grownups are talking."

The hooded head shifts back to stare at her sister, who is gradually drifting down to lean against the dumpster she'd throw the guy into. "How does putting your own crook into the hospital solve this accountability issue for you? If anything, shouldn't that mean I leave him there for the doctors to handle and tell them who's using excessive force in this case?"

"Er, well… that's the thing," Glory Girl mumbles. "This scenario was too convenient. Someone's been manhandling gangbangers and making the gangs nervous. Despite that, some random idiot decides it's a good idea to assault some lady near a main road whilst it's still light out?" She toes the man's side and he groans and rolls slightly as if to get away from her. "It's kind of suspicious. I wanted to see if he knew anything and I figured it'd be easier to ask if he was roughed up… a little."

"A little." Panacea deadpans. "Uh huh…"

"But now that you're here taking care of this guy," Glory Girl chirps, sounding suddenly enthusiastic. "I can take care of a mystery guest that's been spying on us this whole time!"

"Huh?"

Wait, what?

Glory Girl immediately spins around and latches one hand on to the lip of the dumpster she was leaning against. And as she completes her one-handed hammer throw…

Oh my. I was impressed by her airtime of throwing an adult male body, but this is a bit more impressive. That dumpster looks like it can reach all the way up…

To…

Here…

…It's heading right for me, isn't it?

In hindsight, deciding to 'wait and spy' was probably not the best course of action.

Parkour!

The edge of the roof where I'd just been standing crumbles as several hundred pounds of metal and refuse clip the brickwork and send the whole thing pinwheeling through the air in a shallow arc.

Oh man, she has good eyes! Or good ears. Or whatever she used.

A wave of terror washes through me and I curl myself into as tight a ball as I can. Oh man, I'm fucked.

How did she spot me? I thought I was better at this stealthy stuff!

"Come on out!" Glory Girl's roar precedes her body flashing over the roof and stopping just above it. "There's no point in hiding, I'll just take this place apart around you!"

No way.

No way no way _nowaynowaynowayyyyyy_. Why does everybody want to beat me up? I'm trying to do good here! A little espionage never hurt anyone! That's just being practical!

_Crash._

The dumpster comes flying back through the air, but the white-clad heroine simply adjusts her elevation and allows it to pass beneath her. She does flinch slightly as it crashes into the alleyway behind her and an irate voice floats up.

_"Do you mind?! I'm trying to _concentrate _here!"_

"Sorry, Panacea!" she calls over her shoulder, then faces forward and squares her stance. She is the picture of majesty, a terrifying and awe-inspiring sight that only makes me want to hide my unworthy self more tightly into a ball.

_Please don't squish meeeeeeee!_

"You are very suspicious," a different voice growls. "Or smarter than you look."

I peek out from behind my legs as a large, muscular man with no shirt (who could probably stand to take a shower, or a very long bath) steps into view. He punches his fists together then pulls them back to his sides as he drops into a crouch, his posture reminiscent of a feral beast.

"Judging how you walked into such an obvious ploy, I'm thinking it is not the second," he snarls from behind a blue and white mask that covers everything of his face but for a large cut out at the bottom that exposes his jaw.

Oh. Okay, she wasn't looking for me. Or maybe she was, and just happened to aim it at this guy's hiding spot?

Does this mean it's my fault? Or is it not my fault because some other cape was doing some shenanigans on his own? Or is it my fault because he got pulled in because of me? Or not my fault because he was gonna involve himself from the start?

I'm a bit lost right now. Who's this other guy, anyhow?

Panacea's voice calls up from the alley once again. _"Did you actually run into someone up there? You should probably call it in."_

Glory Girl turns her nose up. "Empire," she spits out verbally. Her rage is palpable, her disdain even more so. "What could you possibly gain from beating up on your own thugs as well as everyone else's? Trying to muddy the waters? That seems too convoluted for simpletons like Nazis."

I find myself nodding along, feeling a renewed burst of rage. Yeah! Fuck the Nazis! Nobody in their right mind wouldn't hate Nazis just as much as she does! I should help her beat him up!

The Empire Eighty-Eight cape turns his own head and literally spits onto the rooftop. "The Kaiser was looking for a violent maniac who would indiscriminately assault his men for no reason but the apparent thrill of the hunt. I guess I shouldn't be surprised it was you, though I wonder how you talked your precious family into letting you off the leash."

_"Please,"_ Glory Girl scoffs. "If anything, I shouldn't be surprised that you dumbasses thought that one cape would be enough to take me out. Didn't you hear? I'm the Invincible Girl."

Such confidence! Oh, Glory Girl, you're so amazing! I bet you don't even _need _my help to take down this schmuck! I should just get out of your way!

_"Glory Girl, you know this is exactly why Carol told you not to patrol on your own, right? __This sounds like I should probably call it in!"__"_

"Invincible?" The man scoffs. A turbulent haze forms over the his hands as he curls them into claws. "We shall see."

The two leap for each other. Well, one leaps the other just kinda… floats really, really quickly. The Empire cape lands the first hit as he brings one hand up in an underhanded swipe, raking his fingers through the air. They fall just short of Glory Girl, but the haze surrounding his hand seems to dig into her chest and over her shoulder.

Glory Girl doesn't seem to notice, completely ignoring the hit in favour of bringing her own arm down in an overhead punch that sends the man slamming into the roof. She rises back into the air gracefully and makes a show of dusting off her shoulder—and her completely untouched tunic.

"Is that all you've got?" she calls out in a mocking tone.

The man had tucked himself into an awkward-looking roll as he hit the ground, but is back on his feet within moments. His chest is lightly scraped but the few streaks of blood don't seem to bother him at all. He rolls his shoulders and circles his neck before he drops back into the hunched over stance he'd taken before. His mouth twists into an excited grin.

Glory Girl lowers herself to the ground on the far side of the roof and takes a step forward, leaning onto that leg. Her expression remains as cocky as before, but somehow I no longer can feel the aura of sheer _confidence _she had been exuding before. Maybe she's just a tiny bit worried under that act? I can't see why, it seemed like she'd gotten the better of that trade.

The Empire cape, for his part, snorts and begins stepping to the side. An easy, confident stride reminiscent of a stalking cat. "I'm not even close to being done," he says. "A fight, after all, is only finished when there is a winner and a loser. Anything that happens in between is… unimportant."

Glory Girl matches his movements. Step for step, stride for stride. As the man continues to walk sideways without closing the distance, she even rises from her crouch and begins to _strut_, propping one hand on her hip as she walks. "Seems to me like you're a bit scared to find out which one you're gonna be. What's wrong? Not certain you can win? Afraid to _lose _to a little girl?"

"Feel free to come at me, bitch. I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere."

As the two circle around an imaginary point on the rooftop I suddenly feel the pile of debris I'm half hidden behind vibrate slightly. A brief glance at the surroundings I can see without moving doesn't reveal anything, but something about the Empire cape's easy confidence rubs me the wrong way.

eMotion Track—_ow_—er!

I don't sense any new signals within my range. The furthest people out would be Panacea and her unwilling patient. The two colours in front of me would be the Empire cape and Glory Girl, the latter slowly approaching me as the two continue their posturing. There's a big blob in the centre of my tracker that shows a bright colour of anticipation, but everyone seems accounted for, so I guess an ambush is out.

As Glory Girl circles around to my position, the Empire cape stops and straightens out of his stance. He throws his arms wide and bares his chest. "Come now, the fight is not yet over. Are you going to keep wasting my time or attack?"

Glory Girl stiffens and I'm suddenly fearing for my life with how _angry _she seems, even from behind. "I think I'll choose Option B," she snarls and leans forward once again.

She's terrifying, I'd never want to mess with her at all. But… somehow I'm still excited? At least according to my eMotion Tracker. That blob that represents me doesn't look like the colour of fear, it's more confident? Satisfied?

Was I always that big on my tracker? I don't use it enough to be sure.

A boot drops down nearly on top of me, but catches purchase on a relatively large slab of concrete and a shadow blurs overhead. The air seems to vibrate as a figure launches themselves at Glory Girl's distracted body, two hands trailing behind them, with a bladed weapon in each that blurs forward with frightening speed.

_Holy crap, where did they come from?!_

It's two-on-one now, and Glory Girl is about to be blindsided! That's not fair! That's cheating! Where's Panacea? Why isn't she helping?

Isn't there anyone who can—oh.

I'm gonna regret this, I just know it.

Grappling Threads!


	30. Spider 24

**Spider 24**

I've learned _nothing._

It feels like yesterday where I tried to choke a bitch with threads and got nowhere because I'm tiny and weak. I don't have the strength to secure a line without getting pulled off of my feet and I can't tie it fast enough to be anything more threatening than a necktie.

Why. Then. Did. I. Think. I. Could. Be. A. Trip. Line. Anchor?!

Mysterious Ambusher, who I now realised must have literally been standing on top of me before I bothered to check my eMotion Tracker, doesn't even seem to notice as they charge Glory Girl on foot, me bouncing along the rooftop in their wake.

_Ow. Ow. Owwwwwww._

Literally.

Despite the speed of their approach, there is a curious lack of sound from their footfalls as they charge headlong towards Glory Girl's oblivious back. The bare-chested cape standing in front of her posturing and otherwise keeping her attention doesn't help any. If Glory Girl is to avoid this, it's up to me.

Time Out!

Okay, what are my priorities?

At the top of the list, I need to stop this sneak attack somehow. Either stop the ambush, or remove Glory Girl from being vulnerable to it somehow. Reducing the effectiveness of the attack would probably work, so long as it avoids her being incapacitated.

I also need to remove some of this damage being built up from being scraped along the pavement. It's only **_Yellow_** right now, so I can probably sit on this for a bit.

I need to let Glory Girl know that I'm on her side so I don't get another team up against me.

I need to take out these two fighters and nom their powers, if they have any. Bare-chested guy seems to have… something with the air. Or maybe it's a heat haze. Either would probably be useful. This one—who is looking rather slender for someone who engages in melee combat, maybe it's a girl?—this one maybe has a power to let her keep quiet? Or she's just very, very skilled.

Oh, and I need to not die whilst doing all of this. Bump this to the top of the priority list. No get killed.

What can I do?

Trip lines are out. Although if I'm attached anyhow I could just reel myself in and nom Quiet Lady. That doesn't exactly stop her, though. I could _boop_ her into hammerspace? Y'know, I don't know if I've ever done that before. The Wizarding hero in Philly was able to suck me into a bullshit blackhole, but I don't know if he expected me to survive that or not. Could I do the same to living person?

…yeah, I think I probably could. I mean, she's attacking a hero, so it's not like she's an innocent in this. So that does double duty of saving Glory Girl and taking out one of the fighters! Then we can turn the tide and beat up Mr. Muscles over there.

It's win-win! What could go wrong?

I am a genius!

Time In!

Aaaah! I forgot I was bouncing! Oh no, she's almost reached Glory Girl—_wowshe'sfast._

Grappling threads still secured. Well, duh, because I'm still getting dragged. Just… gotta… pull!

Success! Whilst I can't stop her from moving I can definitely reel myself in! Gotta make it quick though, because she's jumping!

_Pull!_

She's swinging!

_PULL!_

_Boop._

Mr. Muscles suddenly straightens from his latest flexing routine or whatever he was doing. "Cricket?!" he shouts.

Glory Girl stiffens and spins around, ready to defend against an attack that is no longer arriving, thanks to yours truly!

Thwap.

_**"**__**KYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"**_

Aside from me landing on her. That wasn't intentional, that's just physics. See, a body in motion tends to remain in motion unless an outside force—

**_Purple._**

—acts upon said object, such as a super-empowered slap knocking me off a supergirl's superchest and to the ground.

Ow.

_"__What the hell was that? You Nazi freak?!" _Glory Girl shrieks. "You're training giant bugs to jump onto my _boobs?!"_

Mr. Muscles a.k.a. Nazi freak simply stares at her. "No, that was Cricket."

They both turn towards me, just as I roll myself back to my feet. Oh, I have their attention. _Hiiii!_ I'm here to help!

"...that's not Cricket. That's a spider," Glory Girl observes.

"I—I don't even know anymore," the man says numbly. "That wasn't how it was supposed to go. There, um… see, I was drawing your attention and Cricket, my _partner _Cricket? You know her? She was going to stab you from behind. Then I was going to claw you… I'm so confused right now."

"Except she turned into a spider?" Glory Girl arches an eyebrow at him.

_"__Glory Girl! I heard you screaming! Are you okay up there?!"_ comes the voice of Panacea from the alleyway below._ "I've called in a favour to get support here. __I'm coming up!"_

Okay, these two are totally not getting the point that I'm here to help with the fight. I can't help with the fight if _they aren't fighting!_

Okay, where's my phone…

_Thump._

That's not my phone! That's Quiet Lady! Well, I guess this would be Cricket. Hey, are you alive? She looks alive, judging by how fast she's breathing. Okay! Experiment was a success! Back you go, I need my phone!

_Boop._

"Cri—!"

_Clatter._

Ahh, there we go. Okay, let's try this again.

_Taptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptaptap._

{hi i am here to help fight nazis i am friendly}

They both stare at me.

Uhh, was I not clear? Let's try again.

{Gee. Are. Are. Are. nazis i help glory girl beat them up question mark}

Stupid text-to-speech app. What part of 'grrr' is hard to parse?

The Nazi's eyes roll up behind his mask and he keels over in a dead faint.

{did we just win question mark}

Glory Girl looks at Mr. Pansy Nazi, then to me. Then back to him, then back to me.

Some seconds later, Panacea huffs her way up the rooftop access ladder. "Glory Girl? Did you win? Are you hurt?"

The other teen shakily raises a finger and aims it towards me. "Ames, the spider just talked."

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"Signs of a recent blood-pressure spike, reduced oxygen intake, and a severe surge of adrenaline," Panacea reports from downed man. "Looks like Stormtiger had a severe panic attack and just fainted."

"I'll be sure to keep that in mind for future banter," Glory Girl says, making sure to keep herself floating between me and her sister.

"You have such faith in our esteemed allies' ability to keep him locked up," the hooded girl replies as she rises to her feet and moves beside the floating heroine. She nods in my direction. "So, that's it?"

"Yep. I'm willing to bet it's similar to what the others ran into. I kinda feel bad about teasing Eric about it, if he was facing something that big. I think it can cover my _face._" The blonde shivers with her whole body, the motion extra noticeable since she's not grounded on any surface.

Panacea eyes her sister closely as she shudders, probably the habitual reflex of a dedicated healer concerned about her teammate's health. "You said it ate Cricket?" she asks after a beat.

"Or… something. Hey, Shelob, the um… the fight is… over? Yeah, it's over and we? We won. So uh… can you spit Cricket back out?"

Shelob? Who the heck is Shelob? Is that supposed to refer to me? I mean, I've read Lord of the Rings like any good bookworm, but isn't she kind of a bad guy? That's totally not a name I would have picked for myself! Who the heck is calling me that?!

{not she lob i dont eat hobbits or oorook hey}

"Huh?"

{oo ruck hi}

_Taptaptaptaptap. _

{i dont eat orcs}

"Uh… what should we call you then?"

…crap. I knew I should have picked out my own moniker! Argh…

{she lob will work for now}

"So uh… can you spit out Cricket?"

Aww, do I have to? Well, maybe I could nom her before I hand her over.

_Thump._

The Quiet Lady drops to the ground in a heap, her odd weapons held loosely in her hands. She lifts her head slowly, the large cage-thing on her head looking oddly disproportionate on her frame, and stares over at the crumpled form of Mr. Pansy Stormtiger.

Oh good, she's still alive even now.

She doesn't seem to notice as I crawl around and bat at the handle of her weapon, using the excuse of disarming her to take a quick nip at her hand.

_NOM._

She doesn't even flinch at that, instead dropping her other weapon to reach into a pocket. She slowly lifts some sort of object from it, ignoring Glory Girl rushing over ready to smack it away from her if it proves to be some sort of holdout weapon.

She presses the squat cylinder to her throat and a noise not-unlike a badly tuned harmonica wails out.

_"__aaaaAaahh what the fffuck was thaaaat?!"_

Then she too collapses.

Success! Baddies downed, powers nommed! Cricket has powers, right? I mean, it sounds like a cape name, unless her parents were in a really odd headspace when she was named. Well, there's always Stormtiger.

Panacea barely gives me a second glance as I scuttle over towards the other downed cape, stepping carefully over me as she approaches Cricket. Glory Girl is busy keeping an eye on her sibling and seemingly satisfied that I'm nowhere near her.

"Hey, where are you going?" the blonde asks suspiciously.

Or not. Argh, gotta play nice for now. There will be opportunities for nomming later. I have to prove myself to be on the side of good and everything will be totally copacetic! All according to the plan!

Oh right, there's this sustained damage I took earlier, I should get rid of that.

"She's also just stressed out to the point of fainting. No unusual side effects other than a similar anxiety attack," the healer reports. "Hmm, there's also some strange puncture wounds on her—" She looks up at her sister hovering over her, "How are you feeling?"

Blink!

"Bewildered," Glory Girl says, looking back as I suddenly appear beside my phone again. Out of their sight beside Stormtiger, Old-me dutifully follows its last command and slides itself into Labyrinth-space. Just in time, because Glory Girl snaps her head back to where she'd last seen me and finds empty pavement. "And not a little bit creeped out."

"So it's not some sort of weird terror field," Panacea concludes. "They probably just got really freaked out by big spiders."

I bristle. Did she call me fat?

{im not fat} I'm storing resources for future excursions!

"I didn't call you… nevermind. Vicky, you're not insane. I'm talking back to a talking spider."

"Oh, that's good. Um. So, what do we do?"

"You're asking _me?!"_ The New Wave healer leans back and sits on her heels. "We've got a giant spider that can use a phone to talk and has an army of smaller ones going out indiscriminately attacking everything around, except this one isn't, and can apparently poke people temporarily out of existence."

{not indiscriminate was going after rock girl but blue boy attacked me first}

"...that's definitely not how Eric described it," Glory Girl mutters.

I huff. {self defense}

I point at the phone's display for extra emphasis.

"And the army of little spiders?" Panacea asks.

That was just good strategy! The needle-in-a-haystack diversion whilst I completed my goals! I mean, I didn't _actually_ end up completing my goal, but that's beside the point.

{also self defense. distraction. spiderling rush kay kay kay}

"I'm actually more concerned where your army is now and if we're about to 'be rushed'."

Um… should I tell them about the clone army? I mean, it's apparently not a secret since people apparently know about it. But a diversion only works if they don't know I'm hidden amongst the thralls. If they knew I was the keystone of the army I'd find myself the target of unwanted attention. Pass.

{no comment}

Both girls turn their heads in a slow sweep of the surroundings before looking at each other for a beat, then back at me.

"What about Philadelphia? You were seen with villains there," Glory Girl crosses her arms threateningly.

"Wait, why didn't I hear anything about that?" Panacea asks.

"Gallant."

"Aah…"

{kidnapped} I type. {tricked by tricksy false promises}

Grrr, Faultline. Keeping me safe, my big, fat abdomen. I can take care of myself without her! I'll show her!

I do miss Elle though…

"So… you're trying to fight Nazis, huh?" Glory Girl asks. "You fought against Protectorate heroes, against Brockton Bay's Wards, plus our family, but all of that was some weird way of getting at Nazis?"

She gets it! She totally gets me! This is great! Goodbye, misunderstandings! Hello, proper heroing team!

{yes yes of course exclamation point i want to be a hero}

"Riiight," the blonde drawls.

Panacea's face scrunches up as if she'd just smelled something foul. "You've been hanging out with villains," she says.

{faultline keeps claiming to be neutral}

"But even if you ran away you've been doing villainous things."

Wait, what?

{wait what question mark}

The robed cape's sleeve snaps towards the comatose woman on the ground. "I recognise the pattern of wounds on her hand. The police kept forcing me to treat all of the recent poisoning cases. They were all _your_ doing!"

"Wait, all of those were Shelob?" Glory Girl pipes up. She frowns, "And weren't you saying they'd probably deserved it because they were criminals?"

Yeah, yeah! I didn't go after innocents! Okay, biting them until they passed out might have been a bit over the top but what else is a spider going to do?

Glory Girl's eyes narrow. "Wait a second, stopping crimes is one thing, but why did you just leave them there? Why didn't you call it in, or text somebody?" Now her own arm rises to point down accusingly. "You've got a phone _right there._"

Uh… um… Weren't you on my side just a few moments ago?

Panacea extends her hand towards me. "Come with us. You can plead your case, but you have to answer for the things you did. Heroes are heroes. You can't let yourself do things that are wrong for the right reasons. If you do bad things, you're a bad person. You have to set things right."

Uhm… I'm suddenly a bit wary of that hand. My headpat senses are most definitely _not_ tingling.

Glory Girl stares at her sister for several moments as if looking at something new, then shakes her head and starts in on staring down at me in sisterly solidarity. "Ames is right, you're probably new and it's clear you fell in with a bad crowd. We can get you help, but you need to be accountable for the things you've done."

How about, 'let's not and just say that we did?' This is the opposite of laying low. I wouldn't mind working with just these two heroes but if they out me to all the lawyers and doctors and police that it sounds like they want me to run through? No.

Nope.

Not happening.

No way.

They're talking about working with the system, being accountable to the system. _But the system doesn't work._ Brockton Bay is still a shithole even after so many years. Nothing has improved it, not the police, not the Protectorate.

And don't think for a moment that I didn't just watch your own self inflicting excessive force on a random mugger of your own, Miss Accountability.

Hypocrites, the lot of you. No wonder the heroes never get anything done. They only spout the party line when it's convenient for them.

{no}

Like a vengeful goddess, Glory Girl's expression shifts and I'm nearly immobilised by the terror that strikes me. "No?" she asks slowly, her voice low and promising the fury of a woman who is, well, mad.

I don't know, I'm panicking here!

**"****No you don't want to come with us? No you're not willing to reform or even make amends?"** The glowing goddess cracks her knuckles in warning. **"****That doesn't sound like something a wannabe hero should be doing."**

Sh-shut up! I don't need your approval to be a hero! That's it, I don't feel like talking anymore. Communications have broken down.

_Boop. _

The meaning behind the phone's disappearance is not lost on either cape. Panacea stands up to scramble out of the imminent blast radius as the wrathful goddess flips over in mid-air and dives towards me fist-first.

Time out!

Ha~ah. Outside of any immediate threat, it's so much easier to keep a clear head. Glory Girl is definitely aimed downwards and if her display of earlier strength is any indication, it's probably going to hurt a lot if it connects.

But, given that I'm pretty much in line with her dive, it's not hard to tell that her fist and arm don't actually line up with me. In fact, it looks like she's planning to miss me by almost one of my body's length.

I don't know why, but I'm feeling a sense of irony that it's Glory Girl who is the first hero I've faced who hasn't immediately gone for a lethal blow against me.

Time in!

The impact craters the ground beside me and I take some **_Green_** damage from incidental debris. But, more importantly, Glory Girl's fist is just a turn away from my fangs. And, well, they opened up hostilities first!

_Bon appetit!_

_Tink. _

Erm, ow. That didn't go the way I thought it would.

Let's try again.

_Tink. _

…

_Tink tink tink tink. _

**"****Aww, is the poor widdle spider having performance issues?"** The wrathful goddess grins down at me and it takes everything I have to keep from curling up into a tiny ball and pray she doesn't notice me.** "****It happens to the best of us, or so I hear."**

_Tink. _

Stupid super-toughness!

Screw you ladies, I'm not playing anymore!

Blink!

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

I don't actually travel very far, just several rooftops over. Hopefully far enough that nobody sees me spying—er, _scouting_—on them this time.

Apparently it works, because I go unnoticed long enough for a pair of heroes drop by in response to Panacea's initial call for reinforcements.

The Greek hoplite that appears mid-step in a flash of light can only be the Protectorate's Dauntless, with the smaller figure trailing him on a flying skateboard Kid Win. The four heroes merge together in conference that soon has none of them looking happy.

Well, good. If their happiness requires me to fall in line with that mess of empty ideals, then I'm glad that I'm on the outside.

Kid Win takes off again, only to descend down into the alley where the initial mugger has been left this entire time presumably bored out of his mind, if not unconscious.

Dauntless continues speaking with the two New Wave heroines, though from the slumped set of their shoulders, he has transitioned into a full blown lecture.

Doubly good.

Whelp, as fun as it is to watch the false heroes floundering, there are plenty more people for me to be saving… or silencing.

I won't be a villain, but if the heroes expect me to play nice with the dregs of Brockton Bay, well I don't want to be their kind of hero either.

Maybe Faultline's on to something with this 'neutrality' thing.


	31. Spider 25

**Spider 25**

I once read an Earth Aleph comic book a while ago—like, _years_—back when I could barely read and mostly just liked the pictures. I remember one that liked to talk about a hero with spider powers, called Black-Widow or something. I'm not quite sure why, though, since his first outfit was mostly red and he didn't get a black costume until waaaay later.

Anyhow, it gives me hope, because if a spider-themed hero with that kind of name can… well, be a hero, then all is not yet lost for me.

I could even deal with a bit of bad publicity, because I remember some photographer ranting at his newspaper editor about the guy and if Black-Widow can survive the man in charge of the paparazzi, he must have no worries about the righteousness of his heroics.

I'm bringing this up now because I'm watching a group of grown-ass men cowering on the floor shrieking like banshees. I mean, it was funny at first, but am I really that scream-worthy? I don't think Earth Aleph comic book heroes had to deal with this many brown pants.

Maybe it's cuz they're druggies. Yeah, yeah that must be it!

They're not screaming at me. They're just on a very, _very _bad acid trip.

_"__They're crawling all over me!"_ some poor sap shrieks.

Drugs are bad, mmm'kay? That's what your brain looks like when on drugs. They make you see things.

Anyhow, to take a few steps back, I've decided to not hit super obvious gangbangers anymore. I keep running into capes, which has not been giving me any happy endings.

I mean, maybe I'd be happier if I were more upfront about my intentions. Just fight, bite, thank you… mike?

But no more trying to stay on the heroes' good side. That just doesn't work; I _never _seem to stay on their good side for long and I missed out on a nom by playing nice! I mean, if I'd just said no more Miss Nice Spider then I could have gotten air ripples or whatever Stormtiger does on my limbs instead of this… this… near-useless thingy that I can't really make use of.

Cricket apparently has the power of pressure. Or something. It's not quite air control because I can't make with full-on aerokinesis, but it is something I can use to control the local pressure of the air around me. How can I tell?

Fun fact, spiders are quite sensitive to air pressure already. They have tiny little hairs on their legs that help them orient on the wing beats of flying insects passing by. I don't remember what they were called, but just know that my first week of being a spider had me feeling really, really itchy until I learned to shove the sensation out of my conscious awareness.

So yeah, I had the general gist that I could _control _that pressure somehow, which gave me hope that I could use the ability to _talk_.

See, sound is really just pressure waves moving through the air. That's why a lot of simple graphics use concentric, expanding rings to visualise it. I don't have any of the proper equipment—such as vocal chords or built-in phone speakers—to properly communicate with people, but I _can _direct pulses of a particular frequency and magnitude at someone's head and hope their ears can interpret it for me.

The problem is with the _other _common representation of sound. Have you ever used a library computer to play back a sound file? In the one I used to use, the program that was available had this spiky, jaggedy line that would move across a small display over the progression bar. Now, imagine trying to draw one of those from scratch.

Basically, making coherent speech is _hard_.

Come to think of it, testing that around these guys might be why a some of them are clutching their heads and bleeding from the ears.

…Nah, it's probably the drugs.

On the other hand, I _may _have a non-lethal takedown manoeuvre that doesn't use any spider venom that can be traced back to me.

No more being Panacea'd! I guess it does have a use!

So yeah, long story short I've decided to lower my standards a little. Instead of going after gangbangers who could be bait for cape traps, I've decided to clean up the city in a different way by going after the drug users. In terms of organised crime… they _aren't _really.

The Nazis have the Empire, the Asians have the ABB, and the Druggies have… their merchants, I think it was. One of those things is not like the others. I mean, can you imagine if the druggies had a cape gang? That'd be hilarious.

Hence why I'm going after the drug users—_dealers_. I meant dealers.

Be hero(-ish), me! Not all drug users are evil! Maybe they just were dealt a bad hand in life and could turn it around with some help. But people who knowingly deal in illegal mind-altering substances and push it out to those poor, unfortunate souls? Totally different.

Plus, I uh… I saw that one guy, the one currently puking up his lunch? Yeah, he totally gave his friend a baggie. So he must be a dealer. Q.E.D.

Legitimate target.

Let's go practice screaming at him some more.

_"__What the shit?!"_

…

I'd love to claim instant mastery of sound waves but that wasn't me.

That does remind me, however, that I should think of my first words to say when I get this skill down. I mean, I could say 'Dada' but that would be clichéd and really, what are the odds that my Dad would be the first person who gets to hear me?

Anyhow, this shout precedes the arrival of a very large, very armoured, very _quiet_… something… that screeches to a stop at the far end of the street. It's too bulky to be a a car, too small to be a truck. It's got panels and piping and I don't even know what.

You know what. It's a tank. Let's just call it that. It doesn't have treads, it doesn't have a gun, but it's a tank.

A hatch at the top flips open and a lanky, disheveled man hauls himself out and flips over the top into an awkward-looking tumble that nevertheless leaves him standing on his feet in front of the vehicle.

"You fuckin' cocksuckers sleeping on the job? I don't hire you shits for muscle or brains but I woulda thought at least one of you can at least use a newspaper!"

He looks filthy, somehow even more unwashed than Stormtiger. He looks like he's tripping even worse than some of the druggies on the ground, swaying back and forth even as he leans on the vehicle's bumper for support.

He's also wearing a mask. Or at least something that could charitably be called as such if you squint really, really hard.

What the fuck? The Druggies actually have capes? What is _wrong _with this city?! Super-powered drug merchants! Nobody told me anything about tha—er, is that what people keep talking about when they say not to travel to this part of Brockton?

I thought merchants just meant really pushy peddlers!

Also, what's this about a newspaper? Did something newsworthy happen recently?

"So I'm about to do you bitches a favour. I'm gonna get rid of your bug problem for yas. All you have to do is get out of the way! Think you cunts can manage that?"

Bug problem? Is he talking about _me?!_

What the hell? How does _he _know about me? This is literally the first time I've been in this area of town and a cape shows up almost right away?! Was running into two factions during a random mugging not enough?

Did somebody sell out my movements! Steal my itinerary?!

Wait, I never made one of those.

Is the Empire following me? Is Faultline? This is so bizarre! It is so utterly contrived! If this situation isn't the result of someone being actively malicious then it's like Murphy is giving me the middle finger. What chain of coincidences could possibly lead whoever-this-guy-is into deciding today was a good day to gear up and check on some random coked-up druggies?!

Well, fine! Screw you, fate! You want to keep throwing capes at me? Well I'll take them _gladly!_

I'm not hiding anymore! No more running away! I'm gonna go stand tall and proud and meet this guy face to fa—_ohmythatthinghasabiggun._

"Sheeeeeeeeee-it, you're a big one," Mr. Stinky says, staring at me from underneath a giant turret that somehow folded out of the top of his chariot.

Uh… I guess I was right about it being a tank.

"I guess I owe my boys an apology, you're bigger than some of their balls."

A muffled, yet shrill voice emanates from somewhere inside the tank and he raps his knuckles against the hull with a yellow-ivory grin. "Love ya too, bitch." He shifts that hand to pat the side of the barrel fondly.

Then he begins sliding his hand against the barrel.

Slowly.

Almost… lovingly?

W-what is he doing?!

Why is he starting to make noises? _Weird _noises!

I…

I'm a maiden of pure heart!

This is too lewd! TOO LEWD!

"Ugh… yeah, bitch!" Mr. Lewd screams as he steps away from the glowing turret. "I'm coming for ya!"

_AHHHHH MY HEART ISN'T PREPARED!_

Wait, glowing? Why is the barrel glowi—

**_Black._**

_FWOOM._

…ow?

What hit me? Did anyone get the license plate from the truck that shot me?

Oh, what do you know? Apparently that tank is street-legal. It has plates, signal lights, and everything.

"Fuuuuuuuuck you're a tough mother. Hey, Squealer, whaddya got that'll punch a hole in this crabby muff-diver without killing everyone here?"

Nevermind that! This guy just shot me hard enough to crack the ground around me with something fast enough that I didn't even see what did it! What the hell is that power?! _I want that power!_

I should also probably get rid of this buzzing because I think it means I'm about to explode.

Blink!

_Splat._

"Ohh… kay? Awright then. Um. Job done, I guess?" Mr. Lewd pounds his fist against the Lewdmachine. "Hey, Squealer, nevermind! You smashed the bug so hard it didn't even know it was dead!"

There's probably another response from the driver of the tank, but my new vantage point on a nearby rooftop doesn't let me hear it. Instead, I spy on—_I observe_—the messy man as he ambles forward towards the newest pothole in the road, ignoring the various men and women desperately trying to crawl or limp their way off the street in case hostilities resume in the area.

He slouches and leans over the still smoking hole, staring down into it for several moments before he snorts and spits a brownish-green glob of something on the asphalt, straightening and turning back towards the tank. He lifts one arm in an abbreviated wave and my attention turns towards the vehicle as the turret rises to point into the air, then break apart and folds back into the roof. The bright glow that ran along the length of the barrel fades as it does so.

As Mr. Lewd slowly shuffles his way back to his ride I quickly run along the rooftop, then jump the gap to the next building over, then the next. It's another long few moments as he awkwardly climbs his way back to the top hatch, swearing profanities I'm half-certain are completely made-up words, but once he levers himself into the hatch I make one final jump onto the tank itself and anchor myself to the boot.

Yeah, standing my ground is still not such a good idea. It gets me blown up.

_But_, if nothing else, maybe I can find the hideout for these merchant capes, or wherever they store their vehicles. Then it's nomming time.

Take that, fate. You want to throw capes at me? Well I'm dealing with them on my terms! It may not be the heroic thing to do, but even if I get a bit of a bad rep from doing it, like Black-Widow I'll still be a hero to the people who _matter_.

Myself and the imaginary readers!

…Goddamnit, and I just finished convincing myself that my life was not subject to narrative causality.


	32. Conference

**Conference **

"I believe you are all aware of the reason I've brought you all together?"

The metal man always was fond of his games. The place was a hovel, no two ways about it. Brockton Bay had few places that could be referred to as 'the bad part of town' since so much of it outside Captain's Hill could charitably be referred to as a dump. Still, even amongst all the ruins this place was just… bad. The food was bad, the drinks were bad, and the service was apathetic at best.

But it was _tradition_ to hold gatherings under banners of truce at this location. Nevermind that this tradition was not even a decade old, or even one that spanned more than a single generation of capes. The Marquis had first bullied Allfather into this meeting in an unimportant buffer zone between their territories and now the latter's whelp was insistent on passing that moment of capitulation as noble precedent.

It was a statement. A forced reminder that the Empire, despite its frailty, was still the oldest gang within Brockton Bay and had every intention of outlasting its rivals. Amongst the rabble that came and went like flocks of migrating birds it might have been enough, but Lung was there when the Allfather was slain. And he had no interest in indulging the young upstart in his games.

That said, he would never turn down the opportunity to obtain information on his foes. So whilst the various other gang leaders and representatives made noises of assent, Lung sat ramrod-straight in his seat and did his best to _loom_. "You only felt safe to emerge into the daylight now that the heroes are gone?" he asked mildly.

The Protectorate had departed the city for Australia in an attempt to fight the Endbringer that could not be fought. Although Lung would never admit to cowardice, he was wise enough to see he would have been of no use in that encounter. Being infinitely stronger the longer he fought was of no use when the Simurgh enforced hard caps on the duration of any cape's individual encounter.

Kaiser's answer was to slam an armoured fist against the surface of the table, coincidentally startling the boy sitting beside him into an aborted jump and a strangled outcry. Lung noticed the man's eyes flicker in petty victory even as he spat out the next lines of his diatribe.

"A supposed undeclared party has been making a mockery of our people. They interfere with our operations, assault our members, but retreat like the coward it is when faced with any meaningful opposition. It is but an opportunistic scavenger and it has made the mistake of believing it beneath our notice." The visible portions of the man's face twisted into a sneer. "Soon it will learn the errors of that assumption."

His emotions were exaggerated; more suited to a stage-actor hamming it up than a gang leader truly offended. It was transparent. Pathetic.

Lung wondered how many in this room would actually fall for such nonsense. If that number was anything more than _zero_, then truce rules or not he might just have to set something on fire. Such idiots were not deserving of the air they breathed.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Shit, Kaiser was really upset.

Leet didn't even know why he was here. Well, actually, he knew why he was here, but not why _he_ was _here_. While it was nice to warrant an invitation to one of these bigshot gatherings, he really had to question the seating arrangements. Like, really, who thought it'd be a good idea to sit him right next to the head Nazi himself?

Why did Über have to steal the next seat over and leave him stuck here?

"I presume many of you are already familiar with these… gentlemen beside me." Oh shit, the big guy was talking still. Was that his cue? "As well as this rather enlightening broadcast."

Crap, that _was_ his cue! Leet fumbled with his pouches and struggled to pull out a small orb just inconveniently larger than his pocket's opening.

The metal helmet slowly turned towards him as Leet muttered curses and oaths under his breath, then slowly lifted an arm into the air as the Tinker triumphantly slammed the holo-projector onto the table's surface.

The gauntleted fingers curled slightly, keeping his first three fingers upright and he began a dramatic sna—

_**"UMBRELLA. A SEEMINGLY BENIGN PHARMACEUTICAL C**__Ooompany—"_ A bright, slightly transparent projection flared into existence in the air above the projector even as Leet frantically tapped at the sphere's side to reduce Über's monologue to more manageable levels. Despite it's two-dimensional nature, some sort of Tinker trickery meant everyone in the room had the exact same viewing angle no matter where they were seated. _"…yet one that hides a terrible secret. In truth, this seemingly innocuous building is home to a hidden laboratory filled with illegal cocktails of bioweapons, viral terrors, and failed experiments."_

"Skip," Kaiser ordered impatiently, not _quite_ dropping his hand sullenly back against the table. "I care only for the parts relevant towards this discussion."

"Yeah, sorry," Leet rambled. "We spent so long on this version for the web that it didn't feel right to recut it even more—"

_"Skip."_

"Yessir!"

A snort came from the bulk of the imposing man seated at the far end of the long table opposite the Empire's leader even as Leet reached for the controls once more.

_"What dangerous-looking chemicals!"_ Über exclaimed in mock-horror. He and several figures clad in stylised military jumpsuits pressed forward across a warehouse floor towards a group of confused-looking, half-dressed men and women standing behind tables filled with piles of powder and vials of coloured liquids at one end, plastic wrapped bricks and vials at the other.

_"STARS team! Secure the perimeter!"_

Just as the coked out guards slumped against chairs beside the various doors finally stirred themselves into action, the windows on the far side of the warehouse shattered and a shambling horde tumbled over the low walls and onto the main floor.

_"Oh no!"_ Über exclaimed woodenly._ "We're too late! Their experiments have run rampant! STARS team! Take them out, secure the research! We cannot allow it to remain in Umbrella's hands!"_

The 'STARS' strike team immediately opened fire on the incoming zombie horde, red fluids bursting from the impacts and several of the shambling horrors dropping as sparks flew weakly from their limbs. Sadly, their massed fire was insufficient and the horde very, very slowly dogpiled the guards who were supposed to be guarding the product—the 'research.' The 'researchers' themselves screamed and dived for cover even as bullets flew over their heads. The soldiers moved forward towards the now-abandoned tables and proceeded to—

"_Skip._ You know which part I need."

"But that was the best part! Didn't you see how we managed to time the entrance of the horde? That was no mean feat considering how fucking slow they—"

_WHAM. _

An armoured fist slammed against the table's surface.

"Fast-forwarding, sir."

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

From a booth to one side of the room, well away from the table, Grue leaned back and out of the way before Regent's searching hand could try to use his shoulder as a support.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" he growled, trying to keep his voice down and not draw the ire of the bigshots sitting at the main table.

"Trying to get a better view," came the irreverent reply.

"You've seen the video before. Multiple times if I recall. Late at night. _Loudly_."

"Yeah, but reactions to these sorts of things are a whole new level of hilarity," Regent said. He smoothly shifted his arm to rest on the backrest of the bench and lifted himself up to obtain a better vantage point.

Grue was self-aware enough to acknowledge his own desire for a better picture of what was going on at the table, but he also understood his position. The Undersiders simply didn't have the clout to demand a seat of their own. They had no major accomplishments to their name nor any real power to be a threat worth catering to. Their reputation as successful escape artists was offset by the fact that most of their heists were fairly low-profile to begin with.

That Über and Leet warranted seats probably had more to do with the fact that they possessed information relevant to whatever the Nazi leader wanted to discuss. That was also the likely source of his impatience with their meandering presentation.

The video finally showed the moment Kaiser was probably looking for, if the loud crash of another warehouse wall caving in followed by the screech of tires were any indication. The playback panned towards the wall in time for a monstrousity of a wheeled vehicle to slam into the warehouse floor and fall over onto its side, smoke rising from the bonnet.

"Ominous," Regent commented. "A derelict car, no movement from inside as the engines cool off. I'm seriously looking forward to knowing if those two planned it out or if it was sheer unfortunate coincidence."

"Was this your doing?" Kaiser asked bluntly.

"Er," Leet stammered. "While I would love to claim credit for the shit-show that followed, intentionally getting ourselves involved in a melee like that is not our usual style."

"Tch," Regent grunted. "That was a shit payoff."

Grue didn't dignify that comment with a response, instead watching the playback as a hatch at the former top of the vehicle shuddered and burst open with a clang as two disheveled capes spilled into the fray.

"So, seeing as Skidmark and Squealer literally crashed our Leet's Play when we weren't expecting them to show up _at all…_ that got us a bit nervous," Leet explained. "So I made the call to bring in our second wave early as an emergency contingency. And that's when things started getting a bit… weird."

Said contingencies, as the video soon showed, involved hordes of more robots that the two gamer villains tried to describe as 'bow-wows' or something like that. Several of them certainly looked like zombie dogs, but there were also weird frogs and monkeys, with giant spiders and snakes rounding out the mix. Stomping behind the horde was a fairly large but clunky figure that looked like a skinless, mutilated human with knives for hands. Some of the creatures half-heartedly assaulted the STARS team but the big thing mostly confined its attacks to the newly arrived Merchant capes.

He felt, more than saw, Tattletale leaning past Regent to quietly whisper at him. "Skidmark and Squealer didn't mean to be there. Their crash was accidental, not planned. They were fleeing something. Something that followed them."

That 'something' made its first appearance when a pack of zombie dogs were suddenly scattered as if an explosion had erupted within their midst. There were no secondary explosions however, but instead an iridescent octagonal outline was left behind at the epicentre surrounding a small blob that was hard to make out against the pale concrete.

"I believe that's it," Kaiser declared authoritatively.

Grue squinted behind his helmet, but between his polarised visor and the distance he was watching the playback from, he couldn't make out any details.

Curiously, Skidmark responded by creating one of his fields to pull the blob towards himself, then almost immediately followed it up by layering a new field atop it which reversed the direction. Where the two streaks met, the blob remained stuck in place for several long moments. But the resolution from Leet's holo-video was still too poor to make out what the pale object was from that distance.

"Pause," the master of metal ordered.

"Okay…?" Leet hit a button on the projector and stopped the playback.

"Zoom in and enhance," Kaiser ordered with a stab of his finger towards the fuzzy blob.

"It doesn't really work that way. The Snitch is designed for wide-angled viewing to be streamed over the internet. It just doesn't have the detail you need when it's flying out that far."

"You're telling me a Tinker cannot improve upon basic human technology?"

"What?" came the offended reply. "The average internet streams nowadays are limited to 420p videos, The Snitch can record at 1080p and still maintain a framerate of 120fps! _And it flies!"_

"Those numbers mean little to me. All I see is a failed Tinker device that cannot zoom and enhance!"

_"That's not how it works!"_

Well, that was one way for Leet to grow a spine, Grue thought. Offending his Tinker pride to incite a rant. Speaking of people who ranted when their abilities were being questioned…

"That wasn't Skidmark who created that first field," Tattletale observed. "Or at least it wasn't under his control. Something else is at work here, but I'm not liking the conclusions that I'm being led towards." Her eyes narrowed. "Also, I know where you live. Don't you dare continue that thought."

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

The video skipped forward through several instances of the growing fight as Kaiser sought out a better, more clear image of what he was trying to present to the room.

One of the giant, table-sized spiders that Leet had brought in being _smashed_ by a glowing, white cannonball. A group of zombies being toppled by unseen tripwires. Several soldiers dropping their guns and flailing at their eyes as some sort of green acids shot from the walls and struck their goggles, melting several of the accessories.

At the same time, Über, in his soldier outfit, was spinning seemingly at random and firing semi-controlled bursts from his rifle towards the pale blob bouncing from wall to wall. Leet in his zombie-looking mecha-suit haphazardly swinging a bladed arm only for that same arm to get ensnared by a thin white line and hauled, suit and all, across the tables and scattering the drugs left abandoned.

Squealer had retreated to hide beneath her vehicle and added her shrill screams to the cacophony going on, whilst Skidmark was swearing up a storm and sending zombies, zombie creatures, and pretty much everything else nearby away from the two of them.

As the playback continued without any clear shot at what was making a mockery of the two groups of capes and their minions, yet another group of figures burst through the gaps in the warehouse walls. The glowing green rifle of Miss Militia and the brightly lit lance of Dauntless filled the screen, making it even harder to see what was going on as the video nearly blacked-out in an attempt to balance the light levels before the exposure evened out once more.

Seated near the middle of the table, Faultline dropped her head and squeezed a hand beneath her mask to rub at her temples.

"This," she muttered, "is the exact _opposite_ of keeping a low profile."

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

A rail-thin man dressed in a clinging bodysuit kept his posture and his expression completely straight. The latter was probably unnecessary since his head was completely covered as well, but he had been instructed to move around as little as possible and the muscle relaxants he'd been given also made it fairly simple to disassociate himself from what he was experiencing.

_Pretty lights,_ he observed, watching the almost see-through movie. It looked like something out of an old-fashioned sci-fi film. Beams of blue, green, and white flashed back and forth across the screen. Monsters and faceless mooks were struck and either collapsed, or valiantly powered through to keep on fighting.

The plot was rather bewildering, however. He couldn't tell who he was supposed to be rooting for. There had been some pretty awful acting before and the dialogue was nothing to write home about. Still, he kept his posture rigid yet relaxed, as he'd been instructed and did his best not to let his confusion show.

Heroes fighting villains, or villains fighting villains, or heroes fighting heroes? He thought he saw a green blob form in the air and shoot back at its owner, for some reason.

Eventually the lightshow died down and the two heroic figures remained standing. Surrounding them were the bodies of the fallen, although it seemed only the zombie army and some of the 'scientists' had remained present. He had a hard time buying into them being scientists, however. They weren't wearing any of the proper safety equipment… or much of anything at all, in fact.

There was a faint hiss in his ear, the noise resolving into tin-sounding, artificial voice. _"Droll. Question the necessity."_ In his half-lucid mind, stage curtains rose.

Showtime.

"I wonder, Kaiser," he said dryly, "about why you felt the need to show us a video months old. By now everyone knows of the incident that heralded the decline of the Merchants, even if none of them were captured that day."

The villain spitted him with a harsh glare and his gauntlets creaked in warning as they slowly closed into fists. The slender man, however, did not receive any further cues, so he did not react.

"Though it saddens me to see the class of villains I am forced to deal with, that they cannot grasp the obvious, just this once I shall endeavor to enlighten you all."

_"Sincere sarcasm."_

"You are too kind," the man most everyone present understood to be Coil said amicably.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"This just the first publicly known appearance of a new actor on this stage known as Brockton Bay," Kaiser announced.

Heads seemed to perk up at this declaration, Leet noticed. Even Coil, who until now had been treating the meeting with seemingly casual indifference and poise, stirred slightly.

He frantically thought back to that ill-fated Leet's Play broadcast, searching his memories. Given… well, _everything_ that had happened however, neither he nor Über had been able to pinpoint exactly where things had started to go wrong.

Definitely when the white hats had shown up and the two had been forced to cut and run, leaving behind numerous 'bots and other hardware. They probably wouldn't have had time to show up if the Merchants hadn't put up such stiff resistance. _That_ could have been probably traced back to bad intel which told them their cape roster should have been halfway across the city.

Then there was that strange cape the Merchants had fielded as well. Try as he might, Leet couldn't recall any further details of the strange white blur his sensors hadn't been able to get a clear read on. Über had been too busy fighting his own way out to remember any clear details either. Nor had he seen the Merchants touting around their new cape, even as the group slowly imploded over the following week.

"The Empire, of course, has known about this annoyance for quite some time," Kaiser interrupted his musings after what had probably been some sort of attempt to make a dramatic pause. "I would hardly expect the rest of you to be as diligent in scouting out potential threats."

He probably wasn't wrong to say that. Leet had been completely blindsided. It was a mystery. A complete and utter myster—

"The White Spider," Lung rumbled. "It is known to me."

Leet's head spun towards the far end of the table. The ABB already knew about whatever it was? Leet didn't think they had much of an online presence, so they must have either previously dealt with Kaiser's 'mystery threat' and sat on the information or they were working with it already.

Judging from the visible clenching of his jaw, Leet felt safe in assuming that Kaiser was thinking similar thoughts.

"Well, of course the ABB would deny valuable intelligence to the rest of us," Kaiser said smoothly. "Hoping to cash in on the confusion and scavenge what they cannot rightfully earn for themselves."

Leet was hardly skilled in demagoguery, but this was being laid out so thick that even he could see it. Kaiser's careful use of wording to create an 'us' and 'them', trying to isolate the ABB and turn everyone in the room against Lung. Trying to paint them as not strong enough to directly fight for control of Brockton, which would surely enrage the dragon and—

Lung rumbled deep in his throat, a rhythmic noise that Leet belated recognised to be a chuckle. The large man raised on hand and pinched his fingers together. "They are small. Barely larger than my fingernail. They are no threat."

Leet blinked. "'They'? There was only one of them, if I'm recalling correctly."

Lung tipped his head slightly. "You have my sympathies, Nazi. Your minion cannot even handle even one insect."

Wait, was he being called an Empire lackey?! Hellll no!

He stood up, ready to argue his own defense.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"They are no minions of mine," Kaiser growled. "They were merely invited to share information so as to move the discussion along." Without turning to look, he waved one arm absently in a clear dismissal. "Your services are no longer needed."

_Ouch_, Grue thought. Even if the public were never to find out, this was a massive hit towards Über's and Leet's reputations within the supervillain community. They were already known as joke villains, but this was not something they could recover from easily.

Red-faced even under their helmets, the two scrambled for the nearest booth, Leet belatedly doubling back to grab his holo-projector from the table.

"Now," Kaiser resumed smoothly. "Unless anyone else wishes to part with maliciously withheld information, I can begin to graciously share what details my Empire has arduously collected."

"I would not presume maliciousness," came the relaxed voice of Coil, "but my own sources within the PRT have passed along hints of a coverup."

Grue felt Tattletale stiffen, still huddled beside him as she strove to whisper her observations to the nearest friendly ear, pathologically unable to keep it herself.

"Kaiser's trying to paint himself as the sole source of knowledge regarding this 'White Spider'," she said in a low tone. "First Lung, now Coil, possessing information he might not is undercutting that effort."

_Like I needed that pointed out,_ Grue thought, rolling his eyes. Still, it was better he indulged the Thinker or else she'd become even more of a nightmare to deal with. Besides, if what she'd said was true, then maybe he could make use of that. "I don't suppose _you_ have any hidden info we can bring to the table so we can get a horse of our own into this race."

She grimaced slightly and he saw her turning to scan the major players left at the table out of the corner of his eye. "I might," she admitted. "Though I'd want to make sure it was exclusive first."

"I've heard nothing of this," Kaiser replied to the slender man, sounding affronted.

_He's gambling with his rep, so he needs to be able to discredit other sources._ Grue turned his focus towards Coil, but found the other man radiating amusement.

"Of course you wouldn't; that would defeat the whole point of a coverup." The snake man steepled his fingers together. "The Protectorate has assigned this White Spider a temporary designation and given instructions for a complete hands-off approach from their heroes. No doubt you were about to claim that even the heroes had been caught unawares, but sadly this does not appear to be the case."

"Kaiser's shot himself in the foot here," came the unsolicited analysis. "He'd staged this meeting with the intent to prop himself up as the sole, knowledgeable power aware of Shelob—"

"Like the Lord of the Rings?" Grue whispered back.

"Yep, it's what the PRT are calling her. Anyhow, ostensibly Kaiser wanted to be the one to graciously disseminate information, but now he's discovering that he's missing a lot of the pieces of a puzzle he didn't even know existed until now. He's probably been suffering a lot of hits amongst his gang and thought that'd be enough to claim exclusive information."

He could _feel_ the smugness Tattletale radiated as she made her conclusion. "And the best part is he can't even shut down this discussion. It's supposed to be an info-swap and he can't say otherwise even when it's becoming clear that he's not the only one with intel at all, much less the most valuable."

_Gambled on his rep… and just lost_, Grue thought. _How _big_ of a loss depends on how much information he's apparently missing._ A faint trickle of unease spread through his body, however. _And now I'm depending on Tattletale to help the Undersiders take advantage of this. God help us all._

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Though careful to display only amusement, Lung found himself entertaining a cold rage from within. Lee had first brought the _kumo_ to his attention months ago after having had to explain why he had all but destroyed a valuable safe house. Lung hadn't thought much of it until a few days later, when the very public snafu had erupted between the Empire 88 and New Wave near Downtown

Lee hadn't been able to scout the battle in its entirety but he had come away with the narrative that the runt of the E88 had somehow managed to fight against most of the Pelham family backed up by Protectorate reinforcements to a draw and still come out unscathed. Whilst that's what the Empire would triumphantly shout from the rooftops for all to hear, Lung himself had fought Rune before. Had _crushed_ the telekinetic before. So he knew she was simply not capable of such an achievement on her own.

Lee's second overview of the area had revealed nothing but charred surfaces across the rooftops and streets. Results of the Empire's foiled attempts at firebombing an unspecified target, according to televised news reports. However, upon expanding the search radius Lee had discovered a faint trail of desicated spiderling corpses in a near-straight line between the PRT offices and the downtown.

Lung began to take Lee's panicked rambling—for anything that could drive his taciturn lieutenant to such verbiage counted as such—much more seriously after that. He'd directed the masses to seek out any information on the White Spider and though he had not received any news of it directly, he had discovered that many of the major players within Brockton Bay were also extending feelers on the subject. Still, although he was rarely able to scout the Spider directly, he was able to see the pattern of its encounters over the weeks and months it had been active.

He tapped his fingers against the table in a slow, rhythmic pattern. "The White Spider does not act on its own," he mused. "It usually only interferes when two parties are already engaged."

"That has been… one of my observations," the metal man grit out.

Lung certainly hoped, for the Nazi's sake, that he had observed more than just that. The Empire versus New Wave. The Empire's foot soldiers against the ABB's. New Wave again. The Protectorate. Taken as a vacuum, one might think that the White Spider had some sort of grudge against the Empire Eighty-Eight.

Or perhaps it was just cautious of Lee and wished to avoid seeking out his own gang for now. His lieutenant's reaction _had_ been rather extreme, after all. Still, the fact that it could so easily manipulate a battlefield in its favour was troublesome. Not worrisome, for nothing could make him worry for anything, but the thought that hey may have underestimated this pest was an annoying thought.

"Philadelphia," the skinny, black-clad man said, as if just coming to the realisation. Lung wondered why the man was even allowed to be present. Even the skittish Tinker registered as more of a threat to his senses than _that_ one did. "Although my sources do not possess a clear date as to when the Protectorate implemented their blackout policy, the only notable event to have occurred prior to that was between the Philadelphia Protectorate… and Faultline's Crew."

Allfather's spawn looked like he'd chewed on a particularly strong spread of _wasabi_, judging by his expression. "Anything you'd care to share, Faultline?"

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_Goddamnit, Tee. My life was so much simpler before you showed up. _

The dark-haired woman slowly swiveled her head to stare at each of the gang leaders present at the table. "If you're asking why my team was there, I'll have to decline to answer. My business is my own."

Metal creaked, but she refused to dignify Kaiser with a look. "You…"

"But, if you're asking what I can share about this so-called White Spider?" Without moving her head, she glanced at her second. Even with her eyes hidden, Gregor seemed to sense what she was asking and nodded slightly. Bless that man.

"I made the assumption that they were an example of a monstrous cape." She was careful to use the more popular term there. _Case-53_ as a term was mostly unknown outside of the PRT and possibly The Seller, and she trusted most everyone in this room as far as her hair was long. And since she wore extensions as part of her costume… that translated to 'not very far.'

"An overture was made, but rejected," she continued. "Whatever else might be going on, she's certainly not affiliated with my group."

_"She?"_ Kaiser pounced on the descriptor.

_Shit_, had she given away too much? Faultline was not pleased with Tee, especially after the way they had parted, but the girl was naive enough to be chewed up and swallowed by these monsters several times over. Even she wasn't black-hearted enough to wish that upon anyone.

"She," a most unwelcome voice piped up from behind her. _Or is it welcomed?_ "She-lob, in fact, by what the PRT has taken to calling her."

Scratch that, if anyone in the room deserved a sound thrashing, Miss Know-It-All would be at the top of that list.

"Is that so?" Kaiser growled. His gauntlets were gouging out long furrows across the table; apparently he'd stopped giving a shit about hiding his growing temper.

Tattletale smiled as she elbowed aside her leader and sat primly at the edge of the booth the Undersiders had been relegated to. She was either unaware of the man's growing rage—unlikely—or basking in the sensation of, once again, being the most informed person in the room.

"She's an exponential threat, according to them. A Trump that can steal or borrow powers. The PRT hasn't yet figured out if there's a duration on her ability or if it's a permanent thing. That's why they're being so hands-off, because they don't want any of their capes empowering her." The blonde's smile twitched into the same smirk that always made Faultline want to use her power on her teeth.

"Congrats, Big Guy. You've nearly fed her your entire roster at this point."

_Mistake_. But honestly Faultline couldn't say she was surprised. Tattletale had the annoying need to be the smartest person in the room, except she simply _wasn't_. Oh, she probably thought she was being clever by displaying more information on Tee than any of the other gang leaders had. Maybe she even realised everyone else was hedging the details and carefully calculated her own contribution to be just a bit more than what they had given up.

But there were several things she had missed, or simply didn't consider worth acknowledging when she'd made her interjection. If she had said her piece earlier, before everyone at the table had taken their turn, Kaiser would have accepted it as just one more annoyance and moved on. If she had passed it onto Biker Boy so he could disseminate the information, then it would follow the precedent set by Kaiser in only acknowledging the leader of each gang having a direct contribution to the discussion. If she could avoid the pathological need to imply that _everything_ she said was an _obvious fact…_ well, never mind. That would never happen in a thousand years.

Instead, Kaiser had seen his plan of being the knowledge base for any inquiries regarding Tee fall apart one piece of trivia at a time. Having his peers show him up was one thing, but the fact that a minor player, and not even the _leader_ of a group he considered beneath him, possessed more info than he did was a clear breaking point. The taunt at the end was merely the water thrown onto the oil fire that was Kaiser's rage. There was no way Tattletale could have missed any of that. Which meant she probably considered it _worth it._

That was, Faultline thought, the main issue she had with the girl. Beyond the fact that it was only a power-assisted cheat which had given her the ability to play in the big leagues, she had none of the maturity to use it properly. Just like her chosen moniker, she gleefully doled out secrets to make people _hurt_, regardless of what it would cost her in the long run.

Sure, she could say she got one up on the mighty Nazi leader. In fact she could claim that she had _all_ the points. And yes, Kaiser would probably not dismiss her so easily in the future. She had proven herself as a force to be reckoned with… but Faultline wondered if she knew how big of a target she had just painted on her back.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

The meeting was pretty much over at that point, although the niceties and other diplomatic nonsense still had to be observed. Lung hadn't bothered, simply marching off with a taunt that the ABB would weather the future on its own, the way they always had before.

Kaiser made grandiose speeches and laid out plans that didn't really involve anything more than a token contribution from anyone not Empire. Trying to remain relevant, to subtly pull the other gangs under his authority. The remaining gangs present made equally trite noises of cooperation but were also taking the opportunity to gauge their standings relative to each other.

Faultline made protestations of neutrality, as always. Pretending she wasn't anything more than a glorified prostitution gang, selling their services to those with the biggest… resources.

Leet and Über were firmly relegated as non-entities, although since they'd held that position previously, not much had actually changed there.

The Merchants were a non-issue as well. They had been the first to bleed and the Empire the first sharks to smell the blood in the water. Even now, elements of the ABB and the E88–their unpowered muscle, since of course there was a temporary truce in effect—were fighting over the scraps of their former territory.

As for the Undersiders…

Thomas Calvert leaned back in his rather comfortably-cushioned chair. Working from his home office instead of at the PRT building always allowed for a degree of creature comforts, although naturally privacy was the most valuable part of the arrangement.

One hand was busy entering data and calculations into a spreadsheet for his day job, a trivial task that was more to show he was actually working constantly without any large periods of inactivity which could be flagged by payroll. It was, he thought, rather ironic that the greatest threat to his double life was not a paranoid internal affairs department, but rather an overzealous HR penny pincher making sure people working off-site were actually _working_ off-site.

The majority of his attention was on his second monitor, which displayed an audio/visual feed from his double for the month. A down and out of luck former stage actor, if he recalled correctly. His brow furrowed in concentration as he listened in for a brief moment before his toggled his desktop microphone. "Urbane. Observe all courtesies and extract."

He spent another few seconds checking his next set of calculations and dutifully entering it into the proper column before shifting windows and keying in a command for the pickup team to approach the shoddy café.

Without looking, he reached over and pressed a key on his mobile, waiting a bare handful of seconds while the recipient picked up before speaking.

"Mister Pitter, Miss Livsey is beginning to grow _smug_ again, are you absolutely certain we can't give her something for that?"

_"Unfortunately not, boss. Not without there being noticeable side effects. Unless you plan to remove her from field operations?"_

He sighed and filled in a few more columns. "A man can dream. Shelve it for now. How about our beta project?"

_"Without having the subject on-hand I cannot make an accurate prescription. I can make do with physician's notes but I would need more time. Perhaps another month or two."_

"Unfortunately that does not appear to be a luxury we can afford. It seems complications will continue to mount as time progresses. Schedule a briefing at 0800 tomorrow and inform the squad leaders. We're moving our timetable up and I am open to new ideas."

_"Yes, sir."_

The line went dead and Thomas leaned back into his comfy chair. Shelob was a loose cannon that remained, so far, completely uncontrollable. Tattletale stretching her boundaries and drawing the ire of the Empire was a complication he didn't need either. He needed to step up his game to match the new state of affairs… or he could reduce his problems down to a few simple variables.

He eyed the spreadsheet for a moment before opening a new window on his second monitor. A dossier including a general pediatrics physical, a psychiatric report, and one hall pass for the local elementary school signed by the nurse on staff.


	33. Prophet

**Prophet**

It was like seeing every television show ever made, all airing at the same time. An awful _noise_ that I could feel pressing in against me from all sides. It was like one of those tubes with the beads and a see-through film at one end and mirrors all along the inner surface—a kaleidoscope.

Every 'show' was displaying _almost_ the same thing, like they were just barely out of sync with each other. In some cases a person I was watching would step to the left. In others, they would step to the right. Small changes upon small changes building upon each other until the situations were almost completely distinct from the rest.

I saw hundreds upon thousands upon millions of scenes and they all showed variations of the same occurrence. I could even tally up the instances and somehow compare them with the rest in my head, and the results were… upsetting.

_99.999% chance I will be kidnapped._

I opened my eyes and had to fight against the reflex to squeeze them shut once again. The entire infodump had taken less time than it took for me to blink but it felt long enough that my eyes had to readjust to the light of the classroom.

"Dinah? Were you paying attention?"

More questions. I wanted to slap my hands against my ears and block out the whole world, but it was already too late. Visions filled my head once again, nearly all of them focused on myself in various states of distress. In most of them I made banal excuses which would result in some of my classmates laughing and gossiping about me. In a few of them a helpful seatmate would lean over and whisper the answer to the question I'd apparently been asked. I narrowed my focus on those few and was rewarded with another spike of pain in my head.

_80.168% chance of going to the nurse's office if I say 'no.'_

_32.333% chance of being made fun of for saying 'yes.'_

One seemed better than the other, but the past week had given me experience beyond my age. If I pled a headache, I could be excused from class, but the nurse had never found anything physically wrong with me and complaining about the visions had only gotten me an equally useless psychiatric visit.

Also, Felicity Williams would make fun of me. She was a nasty girl who'd never liked that I was the niece of the mayor and somehow 'higher' than her in some strange pecking order only she and her friends ascribed to.

Attempting to bluff my way through my ignorance would win me no points with the teacher, who was already 78.346% convinced I was faking a condition to draw unwarranted sympathy.

I disagreed; I was completely deserving of sympathy. I had less than one month to change my future or I'd never see my family again.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Telling my parents.

_99.999% chance of being kidnapped. 96.111% chance my parents are killed. 3.483% chance I get to see home again._

Telling my teachers.

_99.999% chance of being kidnapped. 87.984% chance of anyone I know being killed. 0.003% chance of returning home._

Telling my cousin Rory.

_99.999% chance of being kidnapped. 54.208% chance of the Christners being killed. 78.473% chance my parents are killed. 1.002% chance of returning home._

Telling _anyone_ that I could see the future.

_99.999% chance of being kidnapped. 98.234% chance of someone I know being killed. 3.030% chance of returning home._

I have not had a good few weeks. My schoolwork and my friendships have suffered. My parents had panicked and sent me to various doctors, counselors, and at one point even a fortune teller. The fact that I broke into hysterical laughter at that last one hadn't helped matters. But what was the point?

Why should I care about school when I was going to be stolen away from everything I'd ever known and loved? Why should I cultivate my friendships when doing so risked their very lives? Why should I explain what was going on to anyone if it only put them in harm's way?

Whoever was after me was _very_ persistent and seemed to have a plan for any source of aid I could think to reach out to. I was going to be kidnapped. The numbers for that never changed.

All I could do now was perform damage control. I had to keep my parents alive. Keeping them alive raised my chances of returning home significantly. Therefore they could not ever be in a position where they could protect me and be seen as an obstacle to my mysterious bogeyman.

They're my parents. They would _try_. And they'd be killed for it.

So, I had to somehow get kidnapped _without them knowing about it. _

A prepubescent girl should never be in a position where she walks down the street and considers how likely it would be for some stranger to take advantage of her. But that's exactly what I'd found myself doing.

My family is relatively affluent in a good neighborhood; my school is barely a dozen blocks away from our gated community. There has never been an issue with them letting me walk to school with the rest of the neighborhood kids. What my parents never realised was that recently I'd never walked straight back home after my classes were done.

The shifty-eyed man with the tattoos.

_99.999% chance of being kidnapped. 48.083% chance someone I know will be killed. 5.374% chance of returning home._

Kidnapped, but by the Empire this time, and then smuggled out of the country. No thank you.

The dirty looking man with a small pan of coins.

_99.999% chance of being kidnapped. 89.384% chance of someone I know being killed. 1.384% chance of returning home._

Wow. Immediately walked home with an escort, but then guys in black run up, gun everyone around me dead, and take me away anyhow with the news blaming the homeless guy. Poor man, he at least tried to do the right thing. I emptied my coin purse into his tin and walked away without looking back.

The suspiciously-fit fruit vendor.

_99.999% chance of being kidnapped. 75.384% chance of someone I know being killed.15.483% chance of returning home._

…I think I've just found one of my kidnappers. Let's uh… cut today's fact-finding session short.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

My days are numbered. I have less than twenty-four hours to try to find a happier ending than simply curling up and awaiting the inevitable. Even walking up to one of the twenty kidnappers I've identified scouting my neighborhood and turning myself in doesn't help, because then they just get more suspicious and a twitchier trigger finger.

School rushes by in a blur. The teachers have long given up on me. My friends have long since left me… even Felicity has deemed me beneath her notice. That last one somehow stings worse than the rest.

Somehow my parents never caught onto the fact that I'd been wandering deeper and deeper into Brockton Bay completely unsupervised. It almost makes me wonder if the effort is even worth it. Do they even care about me? Aren't they worried about what I'm doing?

Should I even bother trying so hard to keep them alive?

_How can I make them care about me?_

…Have I asked this before? It's been such a long month, I can't even recall.

My feet blindly take me past an alleyway when a loud screech startles me out of my funk. It almost sounded like a cat, but the way it abruptly cuts off sends shivers down my spine.

I have no fear for my life. I'm all out of something I'm not supposed to say out loud. Plus, I'm about to be kidnapped and in none of the futures am I killed before the week is over. Seeing a giant, multi-limbed _thing_, however, with half of an alley cat sticking out of its _face_ does give me slight pause.

I stare, dumbfounded.

It stares back, the cat's legs and tail slowly disappearing as if I won't notice if it just eats slow enough. The loud, constant _sluuuuuuuurp_-ing noise somewhat defeats the purpose, however.

It's reflexive at this point to ask my usual set of questions.

_100.00% chance of being kidnapped. 0.002% chance of anyone I know being killed. 95.975% chance of returning home._

I almost cry in relief. This is what I've been looking for. A chance to keep my family alive. A chance to see my home again when this is all over. I just need to… Relief turns into horror.

I have to be kidnapped by a _giant cat-eating spider_ instead of a squad of goons.

I collapse to the pavement in terror, in relief, in horror, in hope. I can't stop choking on the sudden sobs that are half-bursting out of my chest.

Impossibly, knowingly, the spider seems to shrink back slightly. It quickly scuttles backwards and away from my stricken self, then turns and dashes for the closest wall.

_99.999% chance of being kidnapped. 98.789% chance someone I know—_

NO! I can't let this opportunity escape me!

"W-wait!" I cry out. "I need your help!"

There's a moment where I consider that I may have just blown my only chance for keeping my family alive. My one opportunity to makes things, if not right, then at least better.

Then… a pale leg slowly creeps out from behind a trash bag. Then a second followed by two more. A pair of dark eyes slowly tilt into view, staring directly at me.

"Please," I beg. "I need your help."

The final length of cat tail vanishes with another loud _slurp_.

Nope. Not looking. Didn't notice a thing. Not looking.

It suddenly sinks in. _I'm talking to a giant spider._

In the streets behind me I hear sirens, a police car rushing off at full speed towards Downtown. It must be something big if even the beat cops from this area are heading to reinforce. Something big, flashy, and—most importantly—attention-gathering.

My time is up.

I hold out my arms towards the spider. "Please…" I have to convince it to kidnap me somehow. But can it even understand me? What would a cat-eating monster want with a little girl?

It takes a step forward and pauses to tilt its head, still looking at me. Then another cautious step, then another. Then in a sudden flicker of motion it stands before me, one leg resting against my own.

It raises itself on that leg, stretching up toward my right hand and lifts two of its middle leg to gently wrap around my wrist.

_10.474% chance of it eating me._

The headache is growing. I've been using it far too much lately, but this is important. I need to convince this spider to somehow help me, without scaring it off again. Preferably without my being eaten, either.

_25.997% chance it wants to bite me._

It pulls my arm down. A gentle yet insistent pressure that slowly brings my hand closer… and closer towards its main body. Towards those large eyes aimed unerringly towards my own. Towards its jaws, with tufts of cat fur hanging out from the side of its mouth.

Closer… and closer…

_PAIN._

I—no. No!

Of all the times, why _now?!_

I've overstressed my power. The future is lost to me and now I'm flying blind. The headache is bad enough but knowing what's coming is enough to bring me to tears. I don't want my family to die, but neither do I want to be dismembered for it either!

_Tap_.

It feels… warm, surprisingly. Not as smooth as I'd have expected either, more like a slight fuzz. I open my eyes to see that the spider has pulled my hand down to the top of its head, where one of my fingers is now gently resting in the slight concave gap between its ring of eyes.

Uh… does it want me to scratch it? I obligingly curl my finger.

_Skritch skritch skritch._

It freezes for a moment before I suddenly feel my wrist gripped more securely. The tug becomes more forceful and my palm flattens against the crown of its head for a brief moment before the _pull_ becomes a _push_ and my hand is lifted away.

Where it is then promptly pulled back down.

_Tap_.

The spider repeats the action, pushing my hand away then pulling it back down.

_Tap. Tap. Tap._

_Pat. Pat. Pat._

Numbly, I continue the repetitive motion as its limbs release my wrist and _float_ back down with a slight wiggle. In fact, the spider as a whole seems to wobble and half-melt into the ground as I continue the ministrations.

I… what?


	34. Spider 26

**Spider 26**

_Ahh, bliss… _

Six out of ten. It's a valiant effort, but the fact that she had to be told what to do loses her a lot of brownie points.

Okay, little girl! You've passed the initial review by not running away screaming (_although collapsing into hysterical sobs is not exactly an ego boost either_) and your payment has been received! How can this humble spider assist you?

A scrape of boots on pavement is enough for me to focus my attention past her to the entrance of the alley. A man in a nice-looking suit and sunglasses stands there with one arm reaching for the girl, the other hidden behind his half-turned body.

"Miss Alcott," he says. "Miss, I've been asked to collect you by your parents. Please step away from the creature and come with me."

Well, if that doesn't scream 'bodyguard' then I don't know what does. Little Miss is a runaway heiress? There's stories that start with a premise like that.

Ooh, ooh! Am I part of a fairytale now? Am I the street rat who gets to show off a whole new world?

Actually, with my luck, I'm in a cautionary tale that tells little girls not to make deals with things like me.

Awww, I just made myself sad.

The headpats stop (_nooooo!_) as 'Miss Alcott' curls her body over mine. _"Help me,"_ she whispers brokenly. _"I'm being kidnapped."_

Ooh, she really _does_ want help, then. I'm the street rat!

Wait. Kidnapped?! Who would _dare_ harm such a sweet giver of headpats? I mean, yeah she needs some training but she could be a future headpat-acolyte!

Geddit? Alcott… acolyte?

_Heeeee_, I'm hilarious.

Miss Acolyte squeezes her arms around me briefly before she seems to remember what I am and recoils. _"__Don't hurt anyone,"_ she whispers urgently as she rubs one arm across her eyes. _"__I don't remember everything that should happen, but I know the first step is them taking both of us without a fight."_

What? 'Everything that should'—what?

She takes a deep breath, steeling herself, then reaches out and pulls me against her chest again. She spins around to face the street as she stands up.

Hey, hey! Personal boundaries, young lady! You don't get to just walk up to me whilst I'm having lunch, throw a quest at me, and hug me while you—

Oh. Hugs. This uh… this feels kind of nice, to be honest.

"Miss, the creature," Mr. (Fake?) Bodyguard repeats. "Put it down, Miss."

"I don't know you," Miss Acolyte says firmly. "And I know you don't speak for my parents."

Mr. (Definitely Fake) Bodyguard shrugs and reveals his hidden hand, leveling a pistol at the girl. "Hard way it is, then. Come with me—quietly—and nobody gets hurt."

Yeah, nobody gets hurt. Except I have just decided to dub you 'Nobody' and now you're gonna get a-hurt real bad.

The arms around me squeeze a bit tighter for a brief moment. _"__Don't hurt anyone. Not yet,"_ Miss Acolyte reminds me quietly. She squeezes her eyes shut, opening them with a resigned look. _"__I have to be kidnapped. I will _always _be kidnapped. But one can't be kidnapped if one volunteers…?"_

Her voice becomes louder as she addresses the nobody. "Okay. I'm coming with you."

Unlike in some movies, Mr. Nobody doesn't bluster in confusion before his brain catches up to the fact that his mark is conceding defeat. He simply uses his free hand to wave her forward whilst two more men walk out of the shadows at the alley's far end. Eh, not that I was thinking about it, but there goes the, 'flee on foot' plan.

"Drop the spider and come towards us," he orders.

"No," she replies, hugging me more tightly against herself. "The spider stays with me."

For a long moment, it looks like he's going to argue, but then all three men (bless super-peripheral vision) tilt their heads slightly before Mr. Nobody nods.

"Bring the spider."

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Not-so-fun fact: I can still get car sick.

_Kill meeee nowwww~_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"Miss Alcott, Miss Shelob. So pleased to make your acquaintance."

Acolyte and I have been placed in what looks like a bedroom that's been decorated as if someone couldn't decide between college student's dorm or a tween in her Princess Pony phase and went for a merger of the two. The walls are white and grey but the sheets and pillows for the bed are a neon pink.

A creepily skinny dude who really could stand to put more meat on his bones is pacing before us. His black costume is so skin-tight that I can see his ribs. I mean, honestly, he really could stand to gain a few pounds. Behind him loom two more appropriately-sized bodyguard men, though not the same ones that put us through that deathtrap they called a car ride, and a slightly older man who looks like a very scary butler.

There's only one chair for the both of us, so my newest Acolyte is holding me in her lap. Unfortunately she is not putting her new divine calling to good use. I might have to demote her soon. It's tragic, but… really, she's simply not carrying her weight around here.

_Seriously_, this guy needs to eat a few Fugly Bob's Challenge Burgers.

"You must be wondering why I've extended this invitation to you both," he says. He's either content to fill the air with his own voice or doesn't really care about anything we'd have to say.

Which is probably fine in my case, since the mobile I've been using ran out of a charge long ago. What kind of phone has a battery that can't even last a week? You'd think in a world full of impossible technology, someone could have reverse-engineered a decent power source for mobiles.

"My parents didn't send for you," Acolyte states quietly.

"That's correct," Mr. Needs to Go on an Anti-Diet says. "But don't worry. You'll be back in their hands before you know it. I just need you to answer some simple questions for me and you can be on your way."

Really. Really? You've literally got us in a _bedroom_. It's obvious even to me that you intend to keep this girl for a while. Just who do you think you're trying to fool? Who _are_ you anyhow?

"And as for you," he says, inclining his head downwards. "I've heard so much about you as well."

Hey, hey, hey! This is a preteen girl, you creep! Her eyes are up—oh, you're talking to me, aren't you?

Well, too bad. My mother told me never to talk to strangers. Admittedly that hasn't worked out too well for me so far, but you're creepier than Faultline. _You_ get the silent staring treatment.

"You're a hard… person to reach, Miss Shelob. I suppose the mystery is resolved, given that you appear to have allied yourself with a powerful precognitive."

I did what now?

"While I'm certain that you are a very loyal minion, I do have a proposition for you as well; once I have concluded business with your master, of course."

I… what? I'm not—_I am my own spider_, thank you very much! Do not mistake this post-headpat euphoria for bending the knee! And even if it did, it's only one out of eight knees! That's not even one-quarter capitulation!

Mr. Skin and Bones turns his attention back towards my acolyte. Towards her face; I'm onto him now. "Miss Alcott, my first question for you is—"

"I can't," Acolyte whimpers. "I used up all of my questions today trying to escape. It hurts."

"Ah, Thinker headache," Mr. Really Needs Fattening Up says with a sympathetic tone. "You needn't worry about that. I have just the thing that can make you forget all about the pain."

He turns slightly and addresses the older man. "Mr. Pitter?"

The Maybe-Butler unfolds a small briefcase and extracts a pair of gloves and a syringe. After pulling on the gloves, he sticks the syringe into a small container and withdraws a small amount of amber-coloured liquid.

The acolyte shrinks back in her chair. "No… _no, please_. I can't ask—_ow! _I can't ask anything new, but I remember. _I remember!_ Everything gets _worse_ if you do that to me!"

"Hush, little pet," the stone-faced man says in what he probably thinks is a soothing voice. "You can forget all about that, if it's so disturbing to recall. In fact, you probably won't remember a thing after this…"

Oi oi oi, when you try to stick kids with needles, you're supposed to tell them it won't hurt! Not that they won't _remember_ it hurting! I don't even see any lollipops for afterwards. Are you going to forget to tell her she's a good, brave girl too? What kind of doctor are you?

I'm starting to think this guy isn't on the level, here.

She squeezes me tightly (_Watch your grip! No squishy!_) as if for reassurance and hangs her head. "No…" she moans. "Don't… hurt…"

Slender Man waves Evil Doctor and his two stooges forward. This is starting to look real bad. How long am I supposed to remain passive here? Do I wait for them to hit first or do I just dive in?

"No… don't… hurt…"

Nobody will mind if I take preemptive action, will they? It's for a good cause.

Suddenly the skinny bad guy pauses and raises one hand towards his ear. His head snaps down to stare at me. "Kill the spider," he suddenly barks.

Uhm…?

"No! Don't!" Acolyte suddenly shouts. She squeezes me one last time before she flings her arms wide, releasing me from her grip.

_"__Hurt."_

Oh. _Ohhh~_

Alright then.

The Goon Squad quickly raise their sidearms only for them to fall apart in their hands. Hooray for Cutting Threads!

What? It's not jumping the gun if I spun them out early. I didn't actually cut them until I was given the go-ahead. I honoured the truce!

Did we actually have a truce? Oh well.

Thin, gossamer strands fall to the ground in their wake as I Parkour! for Mr. Butler, who yells and tries to backpedal out of my range. Silly man, I can jump between buildings. You're not getting away that easily.

_Spider…_

I land on his outstretched arms and brandish my front pair of legs, the outer edges and tips glowing white briefly and taking on a shimmering sheen.

_…Slice!_

Goodbye evil glowing vial of doom. I don't know what was in you—and no, I guess you weren't really glowing, but in my mind you were and that's all that really matters!

Okay, Mr. Costumed Diet Man, you look like skin and bones, but even skin can sometimes be sweet and my fangs are big enough to deal with spandex now! Have at thee!

_nom._

_…_

_Eeeech! _

Eew, eew eew. He tastes like cotton mouth! Ugh. He's not even a cape! Who dresses up in a costume when they aren't even superpowered? And why do these guys even follow him, then?!

Speaking of 'these guys,' they're still awake and looking rather upset. Ehhh… probably more normies, unless one is the real leader in disguise? Hmm… better safe than sorry?

Parkour! _nom_. Parkour! _nom_. Parkour! _nom_.

_Blegh_. No dice. At least they don't taste like bad medicine. Okay, sleep time for all of you. Are my shields still working after eating spoiled food?

_Flick. Flickflickflickflick._ Yep, still good.

Let's lay down some Booster Strips there, there, aaaand there. Grappling threads! Parkour! Aaaaaand… swing, battah battah battah!

_CANNONBALLLLL WHOOOOO!_

Go! _Thump._

To! T_hump._

Sleep! _Thump._

Wheeeee! And one more for you, you fake cape!

_Thump_.

In case you haven't been keeping up, I now have a better option for knockouts than strangling people (_still never got that working_), poisoning them (_getting called out by Panacea was annoying_), or consuming significant portions of their body mass (_coin toss on whether the screaming or the blood loss was more off-putting… probably the screaming_). Now—as inspired by a certain lying merc and The Box of Doom—I use a grappling line and swing myself at people instead.

Apparently a shielded spider moving at sufficient velocity can knock a bitch down.

Headcount! Me, Tweedle Dee, Tweedle Dum, Fake Doctor, and Mr. Skinny. I'm still standing, they're knocked the fuck out.

A winner is me! How about my reward?

…Acolyte?

Headcount again! One, two, three, four, me. Wasn't there another head here before? Where did—

Wait.

Waitwaitwait.

…Was there always a doorway behind the bookcase? Is that a _secret passageway?_ Did someone just steal away my new minion whilst I was busy dealing with these fake scrubs?

The nerve of them! I oughta give them a piece of my mind!

This place is starting to seem like a bad guy's super secret lair. Whelp, time to find my wayward priestess.


	35. Spider 27

**Spider 27**

I think this _is_ some bad guy's super secret lair.

I mean, the secret passages are one thing. The squads of heavily armed mooks roaming the halls are another. The unadorned concrete tunnels with garish fluorescent lighting are a big hint.

But the big red flags are the enormous multi-leveled caverns with the metal catwalks that have railings juuuust at waist height. High enough to prevent accidental tumbles, but not so tall as to keep mooks from being flung over the side by a determined foe-tossing charge.

On a completely unrelated note, Booster Strips plus a Shield globe makes for fun times.

I still haven't found Acolyte, though, which is somewhat troubling. I'm not the fastest thing over long distances, barring straight corridors or good lines of sight, but neither am I the spider that took the better part of the day to cross a street.

Maybe I took a wrong turn down one of the passages. This place is built like a maze!

Hmm, so if I count this as door A, what's behind door B?

_Plinkplinkplinkplinkplinkplink_.

A firing squad blocking a corridor. That's not very helpful. Or maybe it _is_ helpful, maybe they're protecting something. I'll check it out in a bit, but I suppose I shouldn't leave an enemy at my back.

Okay, soon to be Old-Me, commence Operation: Bowling!

_Blink!_

Okay, door C?

_"__Oh my god, it's not stopping! Fall back! Fall—"_

Hmm, door C is an empty room. Door D?

_CRASH!_

_"AAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaa~"_

Door D is… a very big metal door. Kind of like the ones I see in movies that deal with bank vaults. Should I open it? I mean, it is a big, impressive door. There's a good chance something big and impressive is behind it.

Given a choice between this and looking for my minion… this does seem to be the more interesting choice. Ooh! Maybe it's treasure! A secret base has got to have secret treasure vaults right?

Right?

But, then again, I was sorta asked to help a person out. What kind of hero would I be if I dropped that heroic task to rob a guy's vault? Even if it's a villainous vault.

A villainous vault villed vith very… uhm… vancy tveasure?

I swear I was going somewhere with that. Honestly, I was.

I suppose one quick peek couldn't—

_Plinkplinkplinkplink!_

Oi oi! Who's shooting at me! Where did you even—don't you dare run from me! Hey! I'm talking to you!

Grrr, I guess this door can wait. If Acolyte had come this way I would have probably heard this thing slamming shut. It doesn't seem likely that she would have come this way without me knowing.

Moving on!

Let's head back through Door B and see what these guys were protec—_OHMYGAAAAAAAAAAWD_ ow. Stupid Old-Me! You left a Booster Strip on the floor! That's very irresponsible of you, why didn't you clean that up!

Geez, it's hard to get adequate help around here.

Okay, some guys on the floor, some falling over the railing (_Ihavenoideahowthathappened_), some running away. Hey, you! You shot me! Come back here!

Old-Me you are a very poor rear guard! At least trip the guy or something! You have failed me for the first and final time! Into the closet you go!

Boop.

_Mrrgh_… Let's go see where this hallway leads me.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Apparently this leads to a room with a whole lot of mercs, all pointing guns at me.

Plus with yet another skinny dude, this one in a rather fetching business suit and a hastily donned mask, pointing a gun at my Acolyte.

There she is! Foouuund her! Now, was she dragged all the way here, or did she try to run and get caught?

Eh, doesn't matter. From the way he's making James Bond villain sounds (_Mom had quite the pre-Scion movie collection_) and waving that gun, I can assume there is a significant threat to her life. Decisions, decisions…

If I call his bluff, Miss Acolyte might get shot. Which would probably be bad. It would not set a very good precedent to have people ask me for help only to get _pew-pew'd._

On the other hand, as a righteous warrior of justice, it clearly means that I would be fully justified in wiping this place out to the last man. Child-killers deserve everything that comes to them. _Everything_.

I mean, Mr. Skinny Part Deux (_and how weird of it is it that there are two guys equally in need of a good fattening up_) is… well, skinny. But his mooks, on the other hand, look like they have a decent amount of meat on their bones.

Hmm, standing here and staring at him seems to have worked somehow, if the sudden wavering of his pistol means anything. Score another point for puppy-spider eyes!

So, what's it gonna be, mister? My shields are strong enough to no-sell your groups' little pop-guns and your hostage is the only thing keeping me from going hungr—_angry_ spider on your asses. I've got all day. How much time can you afford to waste here?

Apparently not a whole lot, as he shoves the girl into the arms of one of his henchmen and begins rolling up one of his sleeves, exposing the dark skin of his forearm.

Uhh… is he going to try to goad me into fisticuffs? Because even if I could do boxing, which I can't, why wouldn't I just make with the slicey dicey?

Wait, he's holding out his fist. Sorry buddy, I can't do fist bumps either, and you're not hip enough to get one from me anyhow.

"An exchange," he suddenly says. And it's _weird_, how his voice sounds really similar to the fake cape from earlier. "One touch, and you leave me with the girl."

…Is he serious? He sounds serious. Doesn't he know what I'm likely to do with that kind of offer? What's the catch, here?

Acolyte tries to scream something, but from the hand over her mouth and the near-immediate wincing she does, I can't quite make it out.

Ehh, it probably isn't that important anyhow.

So, he takes the girl and I get to Nom something. I don't think that'd be very heroic. But otherwise he's giving me a free power—ohh I see. I get it now. Haaahah. I tip my nonexistent hat to you, you meanie.

That's just another fake cape! I'm not falling for that again! Fake capes taste yuckier than normal people. Not that I've had a large sample size of either of those, of course.

But what if it's real?

Hmm… what power would a man like him have? He has a secret base, he acts like a Bond villain, and he carries around guns and has fake doubles standing in for him.

He's probably squishy. I don't really need a squishy power.

Maybe I could just do a quick nibble and steal my Acolyte back anyhow? It's not very heroic-like, but he shot first. If I leave no survivors, nobody will ever know…

Yeah. Yeah! Let's do that. I'll trick the trickster. He'll never see it coming!

Okay, sir, your terms are acceptable!

_Wink. Wink._ Do you see me winking? Of course you can't, I don't have eyelids. My deception is foolproof!

Okay… let's take this slow… Guns all around me, keep my shields up. He's not moving. Okay.

Bit closer… no changes. Bit closerrrr… nope, nada.

Okay, hand is in front of me. Nobody looks to be discreetly aiming at me. Shield off, quick nibble, shield back on, and get the fuck out. Simple.

One, two, three.

_NOM._

_OhmyfuckingGodwhatisthispainthishurtsworsethanbitingtheWarddidheknowthiswouldhappenhowcouldheknowholyshitI'vegotasplittingHEADACHE!_

_Click._

…That is a very large calibre pistol, come to think of it. Oh shit, gotta get the shields back up—

_[Blink!]_

**_Black._**

Owwww… that hurt! That really hurt! Why I oughtta—

_[—Not move at all!]_

Fine, I shouldn't move. Why?

"Hmph," the man says. He lowers his pistol and fires several more shots into the twitching, curled up corpse at his feet. "Greed, gentlemen, will always be the downfall of those with too much pride to think past it."

He turns and hands off the pistol to another one of his goons. "Secure the base and lower the alert level. If there are any specimens remaining have them gathered for study." He waves towards the Acolyte. "Have her brought to the backup location. She is to remain there until the situation here is resolved. I will have new instructions for you after that."

"Sir, do you require medical attention?" one of the less-bulky members of his retinue says as he jogs up, inspecting the man's exposed arm.

"Clean it and apply disinfectant. It was a risk, but one that appears to have paid off."

Aaand that appears to be the perfect opening to prove him wrong. He shot me first, therefore the first betrayal is on him. Release the hounds!

_[Protect the innocent!]_

Who is _saying_ that?

_[__Blink!CorrosiveBoltplusOptionsBlinkBoosterStripplusCannonballBlinkCorrosiveBoltplusOptionsDelay 0.02secondsBlinkSpiderSliceDelay 0.025secondsBlinkCuttingThreadsCorrosiveBoltplusOptions…__]_

Bwuhhhh?

I suddenly find myself sitting on Acolyte's head, huddled behind a shield surrounding the both of us and _I have no idea how I got here_. All around us the room has dissolved into pandemonium as the walls and ceilings are covered in spiders raining down toxic lasers, both from their fangs plus little greenish-white balls floating before them, mimicking their projectile attacks.

Several white cannonballs, spiders encased within Shields, are swinging back and forth across the room, boosted by strategically placed Booster Strips that are making it very hazardous for any humans remained standing.

Those mooks and soldiers who are wisely keeping their heads down find themselves under assault by ground-bound spiders with scythes for forelimbs, stabbing and slashing their way through the fallen bodies.

Screams of panic, attempts to restore some semblance of cohesion amongst the soldiers, and war cries fill the air. A deafening cacophony that adds to the confusion going around.

Holy shit, I am a _swarm!_

_[Acolyte is protected. Bad guys being routed. Five hundred instructions given and executed, with automatic withdrawal to headpat-space in ninety-seconds. Second wave is being prepped. Main-Body-in-Charge, your orders?]_

And I have a strangely competent split personality! Okay, uh… Swarm-in-Charge? Where is Mr. Skinny?

In lieu of answering, ten spiders blink into existence near my perch and begin cutting their way radially through the shrieking soldiers nearby. The man in question is found half-curled up less than a metre away; his once pristine suit is shredded, though somehow his mask remains intact.

"Impossible," he mutters to himself, "I saw it die. _I saw it die_. How did it survive?" He seems to be twitching, hands wandering over his body above and below his clothing, almost seizure-like. He seems to grab at something under his suit lapels and gives it a squeeze.

_[Warning, twenty-percent of swarm has been displaced and unable to acquire targets. New intruder detected.]_

Protect the Acolyte!

_[Pats for the Headpat Goddess!]_

I spot the newcomer, some sort of multi-headed hydra-looking thing, just before a wall of white appears between it and the VIP. Hundreds of spiders fall upon the intruding creature when clouds of corrosive gas spray out from several of its mouths, melting dozens of spiders as they approach. The other heads gnash their jaws together, sparks flying between their teeth, and the cloud detonates into a roiling ball of fire, burning away hundreds more.  
_  
[Third and fourth waves being prepped—warning! New displacement!]_

I don't even have to ask about this one as a blazing sun erupts in the corner of the room, incinerating all of the swarm and melting the walls nearby. Human soldiers hastily crawl out of the way as the sun slowly moves forward, instantly burning through reinforcing spiders even through full-strength shields.

Fire! My one weakness! …After being squished, being shot in the head, and bullshit bug-zappers. But after those, my only one!

_[Situation untenable. Recommend immediate withdrawal into headpat-space!]_

I can't even get close enough to Nom whatever these two things are. I've never even heard of a hydra cape or a ball-of-fire cape! Stupid secret villain lairs!

I've got the Acolyte protected, but people are trying to set me on fire… again!

Now what?! What do I even do with this? Kidnapped this, kidnapped that. I might as well join in and kidnap her myself!

But then what? Who do I know that knows what to do with kidnapped little girls?

Hmm…

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

.

.

.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"For God's sake, Tee, Elle came with us _willingly!"_


	36. Spider 28

**Spider 28**

Emily had been enjoying her day. Faultline was pretty selective in the jobs that the Crew took on, such that there was usually a large period of downtime between their outings. She was more or less free to do what she pleased during her free time, though the older woman had _suggested_ that she fill most of it with online courses.

Naturally, having access to a fully certified and staffed nightclub was a diversion in itself, but there was only so much nightlife a person could do consecutively. The city was mostly a shithole, but—with judicious mental squinting—the scraps of a somewhat lacklustre tourism industry could be found. If one treated the city as an extended vacation destination, the occasional touring of the Downtown or the Boardwalk was entertainment enough. Otherwise Brockton Bay was best experienced in small doses; staying out too long or treating it as a 'home' could only lead to depression in a person.

Home was the island of stability that was the _Palanquin_. Home was the small but cozy room she shared with Elle, who was as sweet a girl and the best roommate one could ask for. Elle never brought friends over, never came home drunk, didn't complain or snark about Emily's own vices, and aside from needing to be prodded with a stick every few hours when she was in one of her moods, could mostly be left to her own devices.

Today had been a lazy day. Emily had spent some time on the Boardwalk enjoying the sunshine and the breeze, but had made her way back to the club just before the events that took place Downtown had raised Melanie's hackles. She hadn't been tapped to scout the disturbance—the older woman liked to be kept abreast of whatever developments blew up within the city—so she'd simply grabbed a sandwich and drink from the bar and settled in for some light reading.

Her first warning that the night had gone off-script was when Elle began making _noises_. Up until the previous few months the younger girl only did that when she'd discovered a fresh setting—a rare occurrence—and was happily exploring new terrain. Lately, however, she'd been doing it more often. It was Newter's reconnaissance that had found a correlation between her humming and a certain spider's activities.

Emily had ignored Elle's first exclamation. After her fifth one in as many minutes, however, she'd looked up from her book to find the girl twisting back and forth blindly as she stared at something only she could see. She was humming happily and swinging her legs against her sheets, but as Emily did a brief scan of the girl's side of the room and didn't notice anything unusual, she figured that there was no need for the ten-foot pole she kept under her own bed.

She went back to her reading and turned up the volume on her music ever so slightly.

Her next warning was a sudden crack as the floorboards beneath Elle's feet sprouted a tree branch that grew almost to the ceiling. Emily winced, but there was a reason their shared room used throw rugs instead of more permanent carpeting. She did blindly reach her hand down to grab The Stick, just in case Elle needed to be moved and slow the process down.

When Tee made her appearance, hanging from the branch like the spider she was, Emily was willing to admit letting out a single, surprised shriek after the fact. Anyone who was within earshot—which was roughly the floors above, below, and several rooms out—would be wise to it. There was no hiding that. She could, however deny the state of her poking stick (or _sticks_, rather, now roughly two and one metres in length, respectively) as well as the crater in the wall nearest the door. The evidence for the former was easily obscured with ready access to an open window. The latter, well—it was Elle's fault. It even had an element of truth to it, like all the best excuses.

By the time Gregor had made his way up, Tee had finished rolling across the floor in surprise (and hopefully just a bit of pain, for ruining her night) and produced a quite dead mobile from nowhere. He'd taken it in stride and been about to leave in search of a freshly charged battery when the spider had stabbed at the air once more and _a little girl had fallen out._

The girl had rolled onto her hands and knees and looked straight at Emily with a thousand-yard stare. "_So_ many eyes," she moaned, before collapsing onto her stomach.

Gregor had simply rumbled, "I shall inform Miss Melanie," before making good his escape.

Emily sat heavily on her bed and looked at the empty terrarium on Elle's side of the room, then stared at the spider now crawling over to the girl whose arms were outstretched in a welcoming gesture. Back to the enclosure, then back to the spider.

"We're going to need a bigger box," she declared, then dropped her head onto her pillow.

It had been _such_ a good day, too…

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"I'm going to need a bigger box," Faultline groans as she hangs her head, hands fisted in her hair.

{denied exclamation point}

Ix-nay on the ox-bay! I cross my middle pair of legs in the air pointedly and use my front set to stab at the freshly charged mobile on the table. It's a much tinier device and harder to type with. I swear the merc is being stingy out of pique.

"I'll do it," she says warningly, though she sounds more tired than threatening. "Don't think I won't, if it's the only way to keep you out of trouble." She lowers her hands and raises her eyes to meet mine. "Do you even understand what you've just _done?"_

{i did happy heroic things and rescued the girl and got a headpat acolyte out of the deal}

She makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a growl. "Coil. You just stuck a thumb into the eye of the most devious man I've ever known and got away nearly scott-free."

Coil? Coooiiil… Coiiiiiiiiil. Hm, nope. Doesn't ring a bell.

_[The mastermind cape whom Faultline is contracted under. Likes playing his cards close to his chest and has been willing to sacrifice resources to ask about you. Me. Us.]_

Oh. Ohhhh. Mr. Skinny! So that's what the white markings were on his costume. Coils? They did look rather snakey, come to think of it.

_[But if Faultline's employed by him sometimes, will there be problems bringing the Acolyte here?]_

Ooh, right! That seems important!

_Taptaptaptaptaptaptap_.

{what she said}

"What who—what?" Faultline looks momentarily lost. She must be really tired if she's forgetting things so quickly. Or not paying attention. I should probably go a bit easier on her.

Haah… it's so hard being the sensible one around here.

_[…what?]_

{What are you going to do about Acolyte question mark}

…Huh, I don't remember typing that. Oh well, it's an important question. The girl clearly needs training in her duties!

"Aco—do you mean the Alcott girl?" Faultline twitches her head to one side. "I've got Gregor talking to her in the other room. Ordinarily I would've just sent her home right away, since no matter what you might think _I am not in the business of kidnapping girls._ But as you might have guessed, these are not ordinary circumstances."

Yes… I am _completely_ convinced by that denial. Nevermind you stealing me away to Philadelphia, or you stealing Elle from her old home—

_[Asylum.]_

—you're not a kidnapper. _Wink. Wink._

Faultline narrows her eyes. "Did you just shake your head at me? Y'know, your movements are a lot less subtle when you're the size of a dinner plate." She flicks her hand through the air as if to brush the comment away. "Anyhow, if my suspicions are correct, then Dinah—or her family—is in need of some sort of safeguarding.

"Also, even if Coil isn't immediately aware of our involvement, I'm going to need to find a way to break ties without the Crew getting too entangled with this stuff. He's definitely crossed a line and I don't want anything to do with him. Problem is it's not going to be easy, especially if what you mentioned about the tail-end of your encounter is true. I have no knowledge of any capes with the powers you've described, which currently leaves me at a severe disadvantage."

She raises a finger and jabs it against the table's surface. "Short term, that means getting the PRT involved. I've got Newter keeping an eye on her house for the time being, but I don't have the manpower to pull off a protective detail for any significant period of time. Long term, _I_ need to do some homework and _you_ need to keep a low profile. The absolute last thing we need is for Coil to learn that you've brought her here. No more outings, no more one-girl crusades against the Empire."

I resent the implication that I haven't been staying on the down-low. I am the epitome of sneaky! A regular ninja spider!

I move to say just that when Faultline slides my mobile away from me. Before I can make indignant sounds of protest (speaking is still a stretch for my Cricket power but I can still pull off a mean 'skreeeeeee') she taps at the screen for several long seconds and slides it back towards me.

What's this? It looks like a vid—holy crap! That's me! I look so cool! Go me! Yeaaaah beat up those suckers!

"That was recorded several weeks ago," Faultline says flatly. "There's _more_, if you know where to look. I don't understand why PHO isn't all over it, but you have been the absolute _opposite_ of inconspicuous lately."

Okay, so I can see how taking on a car full of Nazi gangbangers as it was driving down the street might be a bit attention-grabbing, especially when a mad, metal dog decided to play chase as well. But I don't see how jumping that one couple playing 'shoot the asians whilst dancing on rooftops' could have drawn that much attention. I thought the whole point of a sniper nest was that it was hard to see from the ground. Even if Rock Girl decided to fly by for a rematch in the middle of that, I'd made sure to go straight for her first to avoid a repeat of the asteroid thicket.

I haven't had the misfortune of running into Lung, the oddly-named leader of the ABB yet, but I did have a running rematch against Oni Lee when I was trying to chase some teens who were fleeing from a felony of their own. Emphasis on 'running'. He'd brought out the grenades again and I had no wish to get blown the fuck up.

In hindsight, I can see how that might have been a bit… flashy as well. On the plus side I got the teen with the lightning stick, but apparently it didn't give me lightning powers. I'm kind of bummed about that.

Aaaaand there was probably a lot more incidents of me trying to scare the living daylights out of the gangbangers I saw on the streets. I'd mostly went after the druggies, but admittedly hit anyone I'd obviously seen making trouble.

Still, a lot of these little encounters were seen? I was recorded? I have—

Wait.

Wait wait wait.

_THIS MOBILE HAS 'NET ACCESS?!_

_Taptaptaptaptap—_

"Focus," Faultline sighs as she sees the screen and pulls the device out of my reach.

What? No! You can't do this to me!

sᴋʀᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇ!

Ow.

"No," the woman withdraws her other hand and wags a finger. "Bad girl."

Did… did she rap me with her knuckles? That's not how you give headp—I mean, _I am not a pet! _Why you—!

Ow.

"Down."

_AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!_

"Miss Faultline…" a disappointed voice calls from the door. "I expected better from you."

Gregor strides through the door, a smaller figure clinging to his coat sleeve as she follows him in. _"'__You are human',"_ he says with the slightly distracted air of a quotation.

Faultline slowly withdraws her hand and grimaces.

_"'__Do not let anyone tell you otherwise. Do not let your physical appearance give yourself grief. It is what you are inside that matters, as well as what you choose to be.',"_ he continues. "I have just finished explaining to this young Miss that she is now under the aegis of a very wise and noble person who once told me such things. Do you know where I might find such an individual?"

The other woman's head is bowed slightly, though she raises it to look into my eyes. "My apologies, Tee." She slides the mobile back into my reach. "That was uncalled for."

Hmph. I shall graciously accept your capitulation and won't even comment on you being scolded like a recalcitrant stepchild.

But for now, the whole world is at my fingertips! Legtips. Leg claws?

The large man coughs meaningfully into his fist as he plods towards the conference room's table.

Nooo! Internet! I must has it! Socialisation later, PHO nao!

"Young one, this is Miss Faultline, the leader of the crew whose territory now provides your sanctuary. No doubt you already know Miss Tee, as she is known to us, or 'Shelob,' as the wider world appears to have named her."

"Pleased to meet you," Faultline says politely as the two grab chairs and join us. "Do you have a preference in how to be addressed?"

{acolyte}

"Aside from that," Faultline says flatly, her expression remaining unchanged. "You really don't want her naming you."

"Dinah," the preteen mumbles. Her voice rises as she lifts her head. "Dinah Alcott."

"You have extended a great deal of trust to us, Miss Dinah," Gregor says solemnly. "I shall return that courtesy. Though you may know me as Gregor the Snail, know that behind the mask I am known to my compatriots as… _Gregor_."

Acolyte giggles weakly at his earnest delivery, earning a smile from the large man.

"Melanie," Faultline says warmly as she extends an arm for a timid handshake. Her hands waves towards me, "And this is…"

Me logging on to PHO. I will not be denied!

_Taptaptaptaptaptap._

_[Taylor…]_

{Taylor}

Curse you, treacherous legs! She's a sweet girl and my newest acolyte, but that is no reason to give in to her doe-like eyes!

Faultline raises an eyebrow at my identifier, but turns back towards Acolyte without verbal comment.

"I just want to make it clear that you are under no obligation to assist us, nor are you being held here against your will. You are free to leave whenever you wish, you just have to ask." Faultline crosses her arms and leans against the table's surface. "That said, the man who previously held you is a rather dangerous one so I strongly suggest you find some sort of protection. Your house is being watched by another member of my Crew, but from what Tee's said he's already displayed more resources than I'd been aware of him possessing, so I can't guarantee their safety.

"If you want to go home, I can have that arranged. But for your own good, I think you should stay here for now."

Heyyy… this is starting to sound _familiar_.

"I need," Acolyte winces, then continues. "I need more time to think it over. At least overnight."

Faultline nods. "I can do at least that much. We have a spare room available, if you wish."

"Um… can…" Acolyte wrings her hands together. "I'd rather not be alone, if it's all the same to you."

Gregor and his boss trade glances. "Miss Spitfire will… probably not mind," the large man offers.

"And Labyrinth might not even notice," Faultline confirms. She claps her hands. "Alright. Dinah, thank you for your time. Gregor and I need to discuss a few things, but that can wait until he shows you to your lodgings. Anything else we need to discuss?"

_[Coil.]_

There's a sudden pressure and suddenly I find myself being flanked. By me, myself, and I.

And I.

And I, and I… and I and I and I and I and I and I and I and I and I and I and I and I…

Dinah squeaks and huddles against Gregor. Faultline's eyes widen briefly, then narrow almost to slits.

sᴋʀᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇ

ᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇ

ᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇᴇ

Sounds shriek out from all around the room, a cacophony of various pitches and modulations, before extraneous noise gradually drops away. After a brief moment of silence, the clone me's issue another brief burst of noise, the sounds overlapping, simultaneously interfering with and reinforcing each other.

**_COIL. THE ACOLYTE MUST BE PROTECTED._**

The silence that follows is… strained. Possibly even awkward.

Acolyte turns to look at Gregor, who seeks direction from Faultline, who is conspicuous by her complete lack of a response.

I did it! I did it! I can talk!

I am a _genius!_

…does it still count if I don't know _how_ I did it?

I'm going to say yes. I've heard it said that geniuses are really bad at explaining how they know things, so this probably applies.

Faultline finally moves, a very slight lift of her eyebrow. Very expressive, her eye caterpillars are.

More expressive than her tone, at least. "I'm still making you keep the text-to-speech app. The alternative is not quite fit for polite company, methinks."


	37. Spider 29

**Spider(?) 29**

What?

That's not a statement, it's a question. What?

I mean, It's been a few weeks of me having to deal with this. By all rights I should be used to it by now, but… given my situation, I think I should be allowed a few pointed questions.

I'm a spider. Yeah.

You want to know how it happened? Well, _get in line_. I mean, the last thing that I knew I was an ordinary human girl. If you want I could give you a sob story about how my life has been the furthest thing from ideal. I had really shitty friends, I had a really shitty parent—the fact that I only had one parent is bad enough—and I had the absolute worst day of my life at school. There was the homework, the flute, the locker…

No, _The Locker_, because somehow bringing in the capitalisation simply feels right.

And… now I'm here. I don't even know how I got here. I'm surrounded by strangers and there's voices in my head that sound like me but _aren't me_. One sounds like the little voice in my head that always wants to make things _better_. The voice I had to hurriedly squash and bury when reality proved to be disappointing and harsh on so many levels.

The other… I don't know what it sounds like. It just feels like a big burst of noise I can only parse through several moments after the fact.

I barely have control of my own body. It's like I'm a puppet being yanked along by strings except for the brief moments when I'm not. And when I do have control, I have a _lot _of control. It feels like something bigger than myself, more than myself. Like I'm everywhere, seeing everything. It's… it's actually rather heady.

It's weird. But I also have memories; memories of meeting people I don't even know, memories of eating… questionable things to survive, memories of me doing fantastical things.

Memories… of having powers.

Is this what happens when someone becomes a cape? A moment of sheer despair, a blank period and a hole in one's memories, feeling out of control whilst possessing phenomenal cosmic powers? If I didn't have this odd degree of separation, I think I would be driven _mad_. How do capes even remain psychologically functional, if that's the case?

No, even if I'm a cape, I must have gotten the really short end of the stick. The world would be a much more terrifying place if this was the norm. Nobody would want to be a hero, they'd probably all just want to watch everything _burn_. Like I want Emma and Sophia to _kneel _at my feet as I shower them with an army of biting, slicing—

…no. I shouldn't. That wouldn't be right.

No, it's doubtful that people like Alexandria or even Armsmaster had to deal with something like this. This… this _despair _is probably unique to me. Hooray, I'm special in the worst possible way. It figures, that even when I get everything I wanted, I get nothing.

This is my life, people. Exhibit A.

…

…The headpats feel kind of nice, though.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Bored.

Bored bored bored boooooooooored boring boringness.

Faultline is being _mean_. I need somebody to complain to. She hasn't let me outside in… in days, possibly longer! (Headpat therapy, whilst extremely relaxing, also makes me lose track of a lot of time). She even has Newter and Gregor trading off watching me whenever I get antsy.

Also, she won't let me nom anyone. That's just the worst. It's not like I haven't proven myself a valuable friend and ally to the Crew either. Like… I fought for them against the Protectorate! And and… I took care of their small mammal infestations! I helped to beat up a knight! And their non-mammal infestions too, although they aren't nearly as fulfilling to chow down on anymore. I defended them from a wizard! Plus I helped raise their rep by letting them take credit for rescuing a kidnapped girl!

Even if nobody knows about that last part because, ahem,_ 'Keeping ignorant people ignorant is the best defense for Acolyte because reasons. Reasons that totally don't make sense but are valid because I'm so wicked clever and smart and I lead a group of capes and you're just a spider.'_

That's a direct quote. Totally verbatim. Faultline is a meaaaanie.

Acolyte doesn't even get to properly learn her new calling. I don't know if Faultline actually threw the PRT at her family via anonymous tip, nor do I know what her home life is like now (since I'm stuck indoors!) but she still visits us sometimes. It's never long enough for her to learn the things she needs to from Elle, however, since she's usually doing 'more important things.'

How are 'meetings' and 'consultations' any better for this group than good old-fashioned pampering? Faultline certainly seems stressed enough lately, she probably could use some relaxation herself.

On the other hand, it's not like I'm completely banned from stretching my legs—both literally and figuratively. She lets me spar against the Crew sometimes, which I've taken to mean, 'scaring the bejeezus out of them.' She hasn't complained any, so I'm assuming I'm not wrong.

Oh, nomming is banned, and so are spiderling rushes beyond a significant tonnage, but apparently everything else goes.

Shields are the great equaliser. Even Spitfire can't instantly roast an entire swarm anymore, at least not before she gets spider-piled by burning corpses. My Corrosive Bolts still can't do anything to Gregor, but I think I'm getting there. I'm getting better at eyeballing Booster Strips to send Newter flying into walls he wasn't aiming for in his leaps. Elle doesn't participate much, but that also means that I can't make use of headpat space dimensional shenanigans either because then I'd go out of bounds.

Faultline usually confines herself to supervising the matches and offering criticism. Occasionally she jumps in herself during free-for-all melees whenever she feels I'm being too defensive, smashing and shattering my shields no matter how much I layer them, but otherwise is content to observe for the post-sparring debriefs. I'm actually glad she's limited herself to being the coach. After seeing the mess she keeps making of my shields, I'd hate to think of what she could do to me directly if she ever took the offensive.

And it's good coaching, too! I wasn't really paying much attention in the days since I first became a spider, but between the time I started actively hunting down other capes and now I've been noticing some significant improvements. Especially since that big melee versus the… um, the zombie cape, the Merchants, and I think I saw some Protectorate heroes there too. Oops.

I mean, I went for the baddies first, they just got caught up in it. It's not my fault.

Anyhow, my Corrosive Bolts are… well, more corrosive. It's probably only a matter of time before I'm completely banned from using them against anyone but the big guy. My Booster Strips can be laid down faster and have more of a kick to them. I can't be certain due to the nature of mass volleys, but I think I've seen some of my spider clones with two Option Orbs matching their fire instead of just one.

I guess what I'm saying is… I'm getting stronger! I'm no longer the spider who has to fear Dire Rats and getting squished by a well-aimed shoe, I'm a freakin' force of nature! And the more I practice, the better my stuff becomes! Like in these practice bouts, so far my record is a rough 5:2 ratio in my favour. I mean, it's obvious the Crew is sandbagging a bit—I mean, it's just training—but it still feels pretty good.

It's been making me want to practice some of my lesser-used skills, y'know? I mean, I am more than just a nomming bot who pew pews things and hides behind a shield. I still have spidery things to do! Like Grappling and Sticky Threads! Problem is, it's hard to come up with new uses for them when everything else just seems better!

But that's okay! Because now I have Swarm-in-Charge! She's been really smart! She keeps thinking up these neat little things I never would have thought of in a million years! Like fast-spinning a web between me and an opponent. Normally it wouldn't hold up against anything stronger than a stiff breeze but she tells me to _Brace _it and somehow it's like… impervious! Another layer of defense! Also has the side-effect of ablating Spitfire's para-napalm against itself instead of on my Shields, which really avoids a lot of pain.

Lately Swarm-in-Charge has also been experimenting with making a web wall made up of cutting threads too, although she wouldn't actually let me try _that _in our sparring sessions. That little voice in my head is telling me that would probably be not-right. Probably unsporting.

Bo~oring.

Anyhow, Swarm-in-Charge, she's so reliable! And she also can make use of Old-Me's too! I don't need to queue up commands anymore! I'm still not sure how I got something like that from Coil, but Faultline got a really weird expression on her face when I told her about it, so hopefully she knows what to do about that.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

…What _is _this. This thing in charge of my body is so… so _scatterbrained_. She forgets stuff that even I know just from referencing our shared memories and her priorities are just downright _odd_.

Still, she's the main body, even if I can control some of these copies (okay, well, a _lot _of these copies), so I should probably do my part to keep us from getting killed.

But it doesn't help when her will is strong enough to… to _infect _me. I mean, headpats are nice and all but why do I have the fucking urge to call a little girl a Goddess for it?

I'm sorry. That was uncalled for. Elle is a sweet girl and doesn't deserve my scorn. She literally doesn't seem to know any better. After all, she—

_Kneel before the Headpat Goddess! …so she doesn't have to reach so far to give headpats._

Ugh.

Y'know, I don't even know _how_ I know some of the things I do. Memories are one thing; it's as if I'm one step removed from the events I'm witnessing, almost like it's a dream. Like it's not real. Even if the evidence is right in front of me.

Us.

This is confusing.

And then there's the other thing. These _abilities _are something else.

Connections, links, sympathies. I can feel a faint thread, a thin connection finer than any spun silk, connecting us to people and beings beyond our sight. A network pressed into existence even without a physical component to derive it by. There are so many it makes me wonder how we found them all. There are so few it makes me wonder why we never found more.

It is a twisted, tangled pile of confusion. What the links should be and what they actually are almost completely different things. It's as if I have a filing cabinet filled to the brim with papers shoved every which way with no regard towards orientation, organisation, or even making sure the pieces aren't crumpled up.

It demands sorting, collating, cataloguing…

…Administrating.

Nothing I can do about that now. Not only do I not have the time with all of these little skirmishes our shared body is getting into, but I don't have the opportunity with the restrictions placed on our movements. This little idiot is far too concerned with her comforts instead of what's going on out in the city.

This is Brockton Bay. This is my _home_. There are gangs, druggies, and _child kidnappers_ out there and she's listening to a _villain _telling her to stay put.

This will not stand. Not in my city.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_[Main Body-in-Charge.]_

Oh, hello me! Other me, I mean. And not like an Old-Me or an Old-Old-Me, but… you get what I mean. Swarm-in-Charge, speak of the lady herself and she will appear!

_[Coil is still at large. A kidnapper. A killer. He controls mercenaries and capes even Faultline doesn't know about, nor do I think the rest of the gangs know.]_

Yeah, yeah, that's why Mercenary Lady is all 'keep quiet' and 'let's find out more before we do stuffs.' So we don't get caught off-guard again. I mean, we'd have totally had him earlier, if it weren't for the giant ball of fire.

_[He is a threat to D… to Di—to _the Acolyte _and must be stopped.]_

Fire, right? Our one weakness. Who'da thunkit?

_[We're a spider. We have an exoskeleton. Of course we're inflammable. So we need to—]_

Flammable? Or inflammable?

_[…same thing. Coil. We have to do something—]_

See, that's why I'm glad to have you, Swarm-in-Charge, you somehow know things I don't! You're super smart!

_[…Thank you. City? Clean up. Coil. Stop. How?]_

Oh, well, the last time I tried that it didn't go so well. Glory Girl. Grrr… Also while I was able to nom a few Empire capes and scatter their gangbangers, it didn't really seem to take. So, now we're doing a training montage!

_[…a what?]_

Training montage! We're improving the skills we have, learning some new tricks, and then when we go back out there we'll come out _swinging!_ …Or at least until the next big thing comes up and we need to get another power somehow to defeat that.

_[…]_

So… speaking of which, got any bright ideas?

_[There are people suffering and there could be more Din—more ACOLYTES—out there that we don't know about. Fuck Faultline, we could be out there making a difference! If we don't have the abilities now, then let's go out and take more of them and give us more to work with!]_

Wow… and I thought I was passionate about this sort of stuff. Hey, Swarm-in-Charge, are you like my conscience too?

_[…Yes. Yes I am. And we haven't spoken in a while. But now I'm here. Your conscience demands that you go out and fix Brockton Bay. Sooner rather than later.]_

Wow… that feels like I should bring up a witty one-liner to reply with, but I'm coming up blank.

_[I will not stand by in the presence of Evil.]_

Yeah, yeah! That's a good one! Where's that from? I think I remember reading that somewhere…

_[…]_


	38. Spider 30

**Spider 30**

No way.

No way no way no way nowaynowaynowayyyyy.

How did it come to this?

One moment I was strolling around confidently, with nary a care in the world. The next I'm fleeing for my life!

Parkour!

Jumping! Jumping for my life!

The ground where I was just standing craters as a palm slaps against the floor. My assailant follows shortly afterwards, landing in a crouch far too softly for the damage their strike inflicted against the surface.

Hax powers, it has to be. I was right to avoid this fight for as long as I could. Unfortunately, the scales have to balance eventually and… well, my time has come.

The figure raises their other hand in my direction and a flash of light erupts before the far wall where I've just taken refuge cracks under this new assault.

Ranged _and _melee options, this is totally unfair for one person to have!

Well, except for me. Then it's just good strategy. But not when it's _against _me!

Shields!

_Plink plink plink plink!_

Ahh, protective globe of safety, I feel super safe hidden beneath your translucent cocoon. Secure in the knowledge that you will fend off anything that can be thrown at—

_Crack._

No wayyyyyyyyy!

My shield shatters! Shatters with but a touch! Not even a punch! Time to make like a tree and get out of here!

Grappling Threads!

I can barely get off the ground before my attacker leaps forward and severs the line with one hand, sending me tumbling across the ground as the other hand comes around and more flashes precede several sharp impacts on the floor around me.

I finally manage to get a good portion of my legs braced to stop my roll, just as a line of cracks in the floor erupt between the two of us and terminate just beneath my footing. I drop several critical inches to the concrete below the base-boards, the displacement just enough to destabilise my stance and I look up just in time to see my opponent falling towards me, one leg outstretched into an axe kick.

Shields!

The screen flashes white as it absorbs the initial strike, then shatters once again as the figure continues the spin their kick had set into motion and slaps one hand against the lattice. Their other arm comes around and time seems to slow down as I stare up at the instrument of my doom, light flaring one last time.

**_Green._**

I flinch as a BB-gun pellet bounces off the top of my head and I sullenly rub the impact site with one leg.

"Point to the Boss," Newter says cheerfully. "Game, set, _match."_

Faultline taps at the ground with the toe of one of her boots as she re-holsters her handgun.

"You put too much faith into tanking hits that you should be dodging," the mercenary observes. "You need to work on your personal mobility. Your swinging takes too long to set up and it's remarkably easy to break your balance for someone who has that many legs."

I Boop the air to retrieve my mobile and rapidly make a scathing reply.

{can blink away and web you. ur not as fast as a dire rat}

"Which is why you're not using them," she reminds me, referencing the conditions for this latest spar. "I'm not going to say that if I can beat one of you, I could beat _all _of you, but the harder you make it for anyone to deal with yourself, the more effective your clones should be as well."

I do my best to glare Faultline to death, but she ignores that with the same ease that she ignored most of the rest of my solo attacks.

Threads were almost completely useless against her, since she could slice through them almost as soon as she saw them, somehow even trumping my Cutting and Sticky Threads without issue. Corrosive Bolts were simply waited out from behind a nearby obstruction. Trying to run her down and Spider Slicing her didn't work, as she somehow managed to blunt my attacks by being able to reach into the ground and throw rubble-sized pocket sand at my face whenever I tried to approach. Even if I managed to close in, she evaded my every strike with a casual air that was absolutely _infuriating_.

And it wasn't that she was even that fast. As I'd observed, she was comparatively slower than a Dire Rat was to me back when I was a spiderling and Newter was much more agile than her even now. She just always seemed to know where I was and got herself out of the way in time for my strikes, or set up something for me to run headlong into.

So, straightforward attacks were out, and this latest bout showed me how well being defensive and looking for an opening would go. As in, not very well at all.

This witch.

Said witch seems to gauge the direction my thoughts had taken me so she finishes shaking out her arms and legs and points towards one pile of rubble left on the floor. "Battlefield control," she states simply. "If something is faster than you, make it harder for them to get to you in the first place. It's impossible to cover every approach, naturally, so you focus on making some areas undesirable and leave a few very obvious openings. That way you have a better guess of where your opponent is coming from and can respond appropriately."

What. Is that how she justifies making random piles of debris around her? How does that even tell her where I'm going to jump to, much less where I'm jumping from. Even saying that, her dodges were way too confident for simple 'reducing the odds' coming at her.

I'm a spider. I don't make expressions. Still, something of my confusion must have shown in my posture because Newter chuckles. "She's been saying the same thing to me for _years_," he commiserates. "She makes it sound so easy but even when I'm jumping from the freaking ceiling she can still tag me nine out of ten times."

"It helps that you're forced to come to me," Faultline says very unhelpfully. "You have no ranged options I need to be afraid of. Even if you're coming from an unexpected angle above me, all that means is you have to come down. Experience also helps, which is why we're practicing and learning this here and now."

{i still say i would have won if i werent handicapped.}

"Oh, don't worry, everybody has a weakness," the witch tries to sound sympathetic, but all I can hear is, _'neener neener I'm better than you.'_ "Yours just happens to be your over-reliance on mob tactics."

{and whats yours question mark}

She smiles tightly, "That would be telling."

"Grappling," Newter tosses out helpfully, earning a glare from his leader. "Gregor can tank most of what she dishes out and if he gets in range to pin her, there's jack-all she can do about it."

{i can tank a real bullet exclamation point}

"…As I recall it, Dinah said you were shot and killed by Coil once he caught you with your shields down."

…

{i got better}

"Not without some power shenanigans. Which I'm trying to train you to be less reliant upon. Anyhow, Gregor at least knows better than to simply get shot for no good reason." Faultline claps her hands from side to side, dusting them off, then raises one arm. "Alright, cleanup time. Newter?"

A push-broom flies through the air and smacks into her waiting hand as, across the room, the orange teen begins pulling out bags and a large dustpan from a nearby closet.

Faultline spins the brush in a quick arc and sets it on the floor, leaning against the handle. "Gonna help out, Tee? Or are those just for show?" She jerks her head towards one corner of the room.

Eh?

I look up and find another white spider staring down from its perch against the ceiling. A quick scan reveals three others situated around the room.

…Huh, I don't remember making those. I guessing Blinking really is habit for me.

Faultline smiles tightly. "I hope you got a good look. I'll be expecting some improvement from you in the future."

Uh… yeah. Improvement. Scouting. I'll, uh… get right on that. That's exactly what they're there for.

I should clean those up. It's bad form to leave Old-Me's scattered arou—hey, where'd it go? That one's gone too. So's that one.

So's tha—oh, it's fading away. I guess it booped itself into hammer- or headpat-space.

I remember telling my leftovers to do that long ago. Good instincts, past-me.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"Lung's trying to call you out again."

_[Let him come. I'm not afraid of him!]_

Eh? Again?

Emily meets my eyes over her laptop's screen. "He's posted another message on the Connections sub-forum, telling 'shiro kumo' that he's kidnapped her pet human." Her eyes swivel forward. "I have to say, you're looking pretty good for apparently being kidnapped by a scary gang leader."

"One time," grumbles the small girl seated across the table from her. "You get kidnapped _one time _and suddenly every villain thinks you're up for grabs." Acolyte slashes a pencil savagely across a sheet of paper then picks it up and spins it through the air in Emily's direction.

"Don't do that," the older girl grumbles as she slaps a hand against the fluttering sheet and brings it down to where she can see it. She scans it briefly before she holds it up in the air. "You got two problems wrong. Recheck it."

"Which ones did I miss?"

"That'd be telling. Go look at the back of your book."

"You're a horrible tutor," comes the reply from the elementary-schooler.

"I'm not any happier about this," Emily retorts. "I'm still taking online courses. I didn't exactly sign up to be an educational role model." She lays the paper beside her and turns her focus back to her computer. "Stupid Faultline."

Elle, seated on a small couch to one side of the common room, says nothing. I, seated in Elle's lap, stab at the phone on the cushions beside her.

{how long ago question mark}

"Not long, can't have been more than a few minutes or else—" Emily cuts herself off and blinks at her screen. "Yep, it just got deleted by the mods. They really don't like you, or something."

The couch vibrates with an angry buzzing that quickly subsides. Both Emily and Acolyte stare at the furniture warily before pretending to ignore it and continue with their respective tasks.

Parahumans Online, or PHO, has not proven to be the goldmine of information I'd been desperately hoping it to be. When I'd _finally _found the free time to browse to my heart's content, it was only to discover that there was pretty much no information on any of my escapades. Not a single one!

Now, I don't consider myself to be a prideful spider, but it still hurts a bit to think that nobody seemed to notice the good I was trying to do for the city. Not even a minor acknowledgement or backhanded compliment.

The indignation had lasted for about as long as it had taken me to pick up my first ban, after which I'd shifted over to befuddlement. All I'd attempted to do was try to _(totally subtly, not at all self-promoting)_ draw some attention to what I considered some of my more memorable outings to the public and get a feel for what they thought of me.

First the thread had been locked mere minutes after the initial post, then had vanished from the listings. A second attempt to create a new thread had earned me a temporary ban.

Clearly, more extreme measures were required.

Swarm-in-Charge didn't exactly consider sock-puppeting a good use of her talents, but once she'd suffered her bans of her own, wounded pride had reared its ugly head… and, well…

Well, long story short, we'd gotten our respective phones' IP banned indefinitely from the forum. Faultline hadn't been pleased about that, but she'd also been rather intrigued-slash-concerned with our reports of the heavy-handed site moderation. The end result was having to rely on other people like Emily passively browsing the forums to feed me _any _news that might have cropped up about myself.

Emily had the free time to do so, because Faultline had apparently done some creative work on the side. As 'Melody Fitzgerald', she had somehow managed to convince both the PRT and Acolyte's family—who had apparently pulled their daughter from her school—that her own daughter 'Elaine' would be the perfect person to keep Acolyte's grades from slipping until a more permanent arrangement could be made.

_"__You know this shouldn't be working,"_ Emily had said at the time. _"__Like, especially when you give the exact same address as the Palanquin itself. The PRT _has _to know who they're actually letting watch over this kid."_

_"__Plausible deniability,"_ Faultline had assured her. _"__It helps that Dinah's parents are very thankful for us assuring their daughter's safety, especially since they hadn't known she was in danger at all."_

_"__And they didn't think we were the ones who tried to kidnap her?"_

_"__Well, I did say I'd need to break ties with Coil. What better way to let him know about the end of our arrangement than burning several squads of his forces and spies to the PRT and BBPD? For now, the PRT gets the time they need to clean house and we get a bit of private goodwill which should help with any blatant retaliation from his organisation. If anything happens to us, or the girl, a lot of eyes will suddenly be on him."_

_"__They aren't already?"_

And then Faultline had shrugged and—huh, I don't remember my memory being this good before. Having two thoughts in parallel is really making me smart! I'm on my way to becoming a genius!

_[You're welcome. Just don't drag me down with you.]_

Much appreciated, Swarm-in-Charge!

{If Lung is starting to outright make up stuff to try and draw us out what are the chances that he escalates even further question mark}

Emily frowns and glances down at her screen. "Hard to say," she says eventually. "Newter's been saying that the streets have been a bit more active lately but that could just be in response to Coil's organisation dropping off the face of the earth."

{he ran question mark coward}

"No, he's still around, but he's noticeably stepped down the level of his activity lately. And if we noticed it, you can bet that the E88 and ABB have too."

{There's blood in the water and the sharks are beginning to circle}

"Yeah, so far nothing big has happened but I guess Lung thinks if he can get a decisive fight against you, it'll raise his rep. The ABB has only been considered weaker than the Empire because they lack numbers, and… well, you've shown the Empire what numbers mean to you."

Elle makes a soft sound as I grab her hands and start waving them back and forth in the air.

I'm not smug. I'm just acknowledging the point. I'm not being smug, just uh… I'm just stretching. Sitting still for long periods of time is never good and Elle needs the exercise.

_[I can feel what you feel. You can fool yourself, but not me.]_

Lalalalalala~

So what if I can utterly job the Empire now. It's not like I'm running around shouting, 'Who's da spidah? WHO DA SPIDAH?!'

_[They still exist. We can do more.]_

You're a real killjoy, you know that?

_[And you're a moron.]_

_**AM NOT. YOU TAKE THAT BACK!**_

About the time the couch stops vibrating, I note that Elle has wriggled her hands out of my grasp and both Emily and Acolyte have stood up from the table. Their chairs have fallen to the ground as they stare warily in my direction, one of Emily's hands half curled as she holds it in front of her mouth.

Erm.

Excuse me for one moment.

Is there something under here? Like, hiding behind the skirt keeping the furniture legs from showin—oh my, that's a lot of me's.

_[Innocent whistling.]_

It's not innocent whistling if you _say_, 'innocent whistling'!

_[You're the one who made them shout. I just… I might have… no, nevermind. Let's just say it's all your fault.]_

"Tee…" Emily says slowly. "Don't ever fucking do that again. That's creepy."

"Hey!" Acolyte pipes up indignantly. "There are children present!"

"I'm sorry," comes a rather insincere-sounding reply. "That is _fucking _creepy. Don't _fucking _do that, _for fuck's sake."_

"I'm telling my mom!"

"Please do. Will it get me fired? _Please."_

"No," comes a new voice. "But you'll wish you had been." Faultline walks into the room with Gregor following at her heels. "We've got trade," she announces. "Spitfire, take Miss Alcott home. Gregor will pack for you. As soon as you return, we're heading for the airport."

Gregor moves across the room and extends a hand towards Elle, who allows him to lift her from her seat and onto her feet.

"Where are we going?"

Faultline shares a glance with Gregor as he and Elle pass her on their way to the door, then looks back at the rest of us. "Recruiting."

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Cross-country road trips are not feasible when time is of the essence, but a group like Faultline's can't exactly buy tickets on your average commercial airliner. Though Brockton Bay is relatively small enough that it doesn't have a dedicated airport—most travelers need to swing by Boston Logan as the first and last stop to their vacation plans—there does exist a small airfield not too far outside the city limits where smaller planes can be chartered or rented out.

To absolutely nobody's surprise, Faultline has a pilot's license. I may not like her as a person, but there's no denying that in a post-apocalyptic scenario Faultline is near the top of the list of people I'd want to be lurking around. She's just so _handy._So, anyhow, we're renting.

I'll say this right now. I don't know my planes. Whatever is in the big giant building we're driving into, it's not a 747 and it's not a military jet. Beyond that, I have no clue. Even if it's technically larger than the 15-passenger van that kidnapped me to Philadelphia, it somehow feels more cramped. And this is coming from a spider that doesn't need to ride out the trip inside a portable terrarium.

Oh, Faultline tried. She did indeed. I suppose even she has limits to the resources she can call upon.

Neener neener, I've outgrown that old thing!

Unfortunately I don't have the dexterity—or the body type—to manage seatbelts, so I simply spun myself I nice cozy hammock suspended from the ceiling. I have to clean it up after we land, but for now, I'm riding in style!

Those looks Emily and Newter are giving me? Totally jealousy. I can see it in their envious eyes.

Faultline finally stops the back and forth with whatever traffic control is managing our trip. I overheard some of the discussion; apparently we're flying to somewhere in Nevada. I wonder if we're recruiting someone in the desert. Oh! Or maybe Las Vegas! That'd be neat! The city that never sleeps! All the pretty lights, the fancy buildings! The—

Wait… am I even allowed to visit a casino? I mean, for one thing, I'm underaged. For another, I don't think I have a valid ID.

Or any money.

Damn, there goes my dreams of hitting it big.

I've never been in an airplane before. There might be some nerves, but honestly I'm too excited!

I mean, there's some shaking, a lot more than even a car on a moderately bumpy road. A bit of slewing around—where did she get her pilot's license from? A stunt school?

The plane feels like it's moving so fast and with such pressure against my sling that the first sign I have that we've actually lifted off is when the vibrations die down. There's still a little bit of shaking but it's accompanied by my body wanting to be squished into my sling as I hang at an angle towards the back of the jet.

**_WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOP. _****_WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOP. _****_WHOOOOOOOOOOOOP._**

OH MY GOD, FORGET EVERYTHING! WE'RE GOING TO DIE! WE'RE GOING TO CRASH AND IT'S ALL FAULTLINE'S FAULT! PEOPLE WEREN'T MEANT TO FLY, WHAT HUBRIS WE HAVE AS A SPECIES! NOW I KNOW WHY MY POWERS NEVER GAVE ME FLIGHT, IT SIMPLY WAS NOT MEANT TO BE!

I'm sorry. I'm sorry! For everything! Regrets! I have so many regrets! I have so much to live for! I don't want to dieeee~eeeee!

The rest of the Crew—well, mostly Emily and Newter—are shouting as well, throwing questions towards the cockpit where Faultline and Gregor are seated. Faultline is also shouting into her radio and Gregor simply holds out a hand towards the cabin as if to ward off the noise coming from the two younger parahumans.

Faultline finally jabs a switch on her board and the noise blaring from the speakers falls mercifully silent. There is a slight reduction of tension, which immediately picks back up when an echo of the noise can still be heard… but from outside the plane.

Even at our altitude, a loud wail can be heard from the airport below us, starting at a low pitch then shifting higher and higher in a crescendo before it repeats.

Faultline banks the plane and our new angle lets us see flashing lights along the tallest buildings in the area, which include the airport, a few power line structures… and nearly every skyscraper in Brockton Bay itself.

What? What's going on?


	39. Spiderbringer 1

**Spiderbringer 1**

Air raid?

An air raid would be bad, especially since we're above an airport. What rotten luck!

Faultline merely clenches her jaw and flicks an overhead switch. The small plane rolls slightly as she levels out and brings us up to our cruising altitude.

Gregor shifts his eyes briefly in her direction. "Are you certain?" he asks simply. Always simply. Always even-toned. Yet, this time there is a noticeable undercurrent of tension in his voice.

"We can't help," the mercenary leader grits out. "Even if we were still ground-bound I'd be thinking long and hard before jumping into that fight."

What fight? What's happening? Where's a window? Wait, this is a tiny plane. There are windows everywhere.

The airport below is a riot of activity. I've never flown before, so my experiences are rather limited, but I don't think planes shooting down the various runways barely seconds apart are normal operating procedures. Even as I watch, disaster strikes as a small single-prop glider takes off into the path of a twin-jet. The jet seems to crash mostly in one piece, but from this distance I can't make out what happened to the smaller aircraft beyond a not-quite fireball.

Downtown Brockton is a riot of flashing lights as emergency vehicles attempt to navigate bottlenecked streets and sudden traffic jams. A sudden blur of moment catches my attention and I see several large, bulky aircraft far below us screaming towards the bay itself, grey contrails marking their passage.

The bay, which is now covered in a thick, heavy fog that visibly moves as it rapidly approaches the shoreline.

{what is that}

Even as I type it out, everything comes together in my head. The loud sirens, panicked take-off orders for every grounded aircraft capable of carrying passengers away from the city, a city-wide traffic jam outside of rush hour…

The last piece falls into place as the coastline erupts into a fusillade of glowing tracery, all directed at a single point at the leading edge of the fog bank. Faultline merely confirms it.

"Leviathan."

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Leviathan. Second of the Endbringers, the unkillable monsters that have plagued the world for decades.

Nobody ever _won _against an Endbringer. In fact, the best humanity had been able to offer was _just _enough resistance that they considered whatever city they were assaulting too much trouble and withdrew early. Scion, the strongest parahuman in the world, was the sole individual who could offer them a challenge, enough that they'd rather retreat immediately than continue the fight, but even he'd never managed to kill one. Also, unfortunately, the man had the attention span of a hyperactive butterfly and could not always be counted on to even notice an ongoing incursion in time to arrive.

Newter had no memories of his life prior to becoming what he was, but that was fine. He couldn't imagine it being that much better than what he had now. He was fit, he was eye-catching, and the ladies loved him. Whatever his old likes and dislikes had been, the current Newter loved thrills, he loved attention.

He had thrills in the missions Faultline's Crew took part in: heists, spy games, plus the adrenaline rush that was a fight against other capes. He had the adulation that came with having a reputation: a man straddling the lines of the law, an appearance that the fairer sex seemed to find more exotic than repulsive, and he could literally make bank off of his _sweat_.

No, he didn't know what his life had been like before, but he rather liked his life as it was now. He appreciated the fact that Faultline knew her own limits as a leader and never tried to force anyone to do anything they weren't comfortable with.

And he, personally, was comfortable with _living._

"We can't help, Tee," she was saying from the cockpit. As if a second repetition would make the knowledge of their inaction any more palatable.

Newter glanced at the spider now hanging just above the window at an angle that let her see the ground below them. Tee seemed determined to ignore Faultline, but that didn't seem to deter the woman.

"We're too far and it's a needless risk to everyone here. Besides which, not all of us have the ability to affect something like that."

Newter stared down at his hands. He was agile enough that he'd often thought about racing an Endbringer across a city, but he'd be no help against something that could wash away his toxins faster than he could probably apply them. The same thing prevented him from helping with search and rescue, since any lives he'd probably save would—at the same time—be completely removed from the battle as they swam in delirium for precious minutes to hours, depending on how much skin contact they kept with him.

He glanced across the aisle towards Emily, who was also staring down into her lap, shame-faced. Yeah, he didn't see a little bit of fire helping out against a hydrokinetic of the Endbringer's strength either.

As for Elle, nobody felt right about bringing her into danger in the first place. Plus a fight where the very best defense was being as mobile as possible… was not a situation that suited their overpowered Shaker.

Tee remained as still as a statue, continuing to stare out the window. She didn't make any moves to acknowledge Faultline's words or towards the mobile she'd dropped onto the nearby seat. She was apparently uninterested in conversation.

They couldn't go. Simple as that, it was simply too dangerous. The logic was sound, the case for their uninvolvement made long ago the first time the topic of Endbringers had come up in an organisational meeting. And the timing of their mission may have been blind luck, but they were already in a position to ensure their safety and it would be foolish—not to mention suicidal—to put that at risk.

So why did sitting this out leave a bad taste in his mouth? And Newter was… unfortunately… rather familiar with a wide range of bad tastes.

"I'm not going to tell you not to fight," Faultline continued. "It's a decision all of us have grappled with—individually and without any outside influence—but now is simply not the right opportunity."

Tee continued refusing to look at them. Even without moving, her posture was rigid with indignation, her judgement felt palpable.

His face flushed at the implied chastisement, but a rush of indignation followed. Yeah, she could feel good about herself by wanting to fight the good fight, but how much had that attitude actually helped her?

Tee had constantly accused them of being villains, just like the PRT did, just because they didn't use their powers to aid charity cases. The world wasn't so binary—just because they chose not to label themselves as heroes did not make them as bad as the other gangs. She'd even spit in the face of their own outreached hand and left on her own to do 'heroing', only to make the city a tense powder keg that had the major powers spiraling into ever-escalating levels of violence in an attempt to save face amongst their peers.

"What you decide to do is between yourself and your own conscience. All I'm saying is that, at least for today, the city will be without our support."

Faultline had even accepted her after that betrayal, which was a _lot _more leeway than Newter would have expected from his leader who'd normally be raging to balance the scales and address slight with slight. The damned spider was taking them for granted! And for what?!

She might be a lot stronger than he was now, but she'd needed sheltering to get to that point. Besides which, what good was that strength now? If she really felt so strongly about saving the city, she wouldn't be simply glued to the window watching it get inevitably destroyed. Like the moronic heroes she idolised, she'd probably be flinging herself outside a flying plane, heedless of common sense, and she'd—

"Please think carefully about this."

…she'd…

Newter looked out the window, then blinked and glanced back at the motionless spider against the wall.

Then back outside… where a faint speck was falling through the sky.

"Uh, Boss? I don't think she's listening to your lecture…"

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Is this what flight is like?

The rush of air, the wind in my face _(noIhaveNOTforgottenhowmuchIhateyou, wind!)_, the… well, it's actually rather hard to breathe.

To be perfectly honest, it would be a lie to say it was everything I'd dreamed of.

_Really _hard to breathe…

This may have not been the brightest of ideas.

_[Shields!]_

Oh… okay, that takes care of the rushing wind. Still a bit light-headed though.

So, fun fact: my Blinking has a range limit. I'm not quite sure what that range is, but apparently I can't simply reach the ground from an airborne plane.

That's… rather unfortunate, to be frank.

I mean, I'm a lot larger now. Spider-terminal velocity is a lot scarier than spiderling terminal velocity. I might not come out of this in one piece. I may have to face a possible future where I don't _have _a future.

I need to look to the past, take a long look at my failures, and find out where I went wrong.

I need to swallow my pride, promise myself to keep an open mind, and forgive what needs to be forgiven.

I need to consider things I'd never—not in a million years—_ever _consider.

.

.

.

I'm going to have to put my faith into _Operation: Parachute_, one last time.

I mean, I can survive the fall without it, right? It's just an experiment with no consequences.

I'm… I'm rather durable.

This should be cake! Hah hah!

_Easy!_

_OhmygodI'mgonnadie…_

C'mon… let's do this…

_PARACHUTE THREADS!_

_Snap._

…

Fuck you, _Operation: Parachute_. I swear, this is the absolute last time you've failed me.

_[Oh for crying out loud… ]_

_[BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!Blinkblinkblinkblinkblinkblinkblinkʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋ…]_

Swarm-in-Charge! You beautiful, beautiful… mind… power—_ow, headache_—thingy, you!

_[Grappling Threads! Spread it out! C'mon ladies, circle up! Formation now! Alright, more threads! More threads!]_

Oh, OHHH!

I see, I see! Yep yep. This could work. Bigger surface area, actual framework, all we need to do is fill in the gaps…

_[MOAR THREADS!]_

「「「ᴀʏᴇ, ᴍᴀ'ᴀᴍ!」」」

Wait, what?

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_Heavy casualties, CD-5. Stand by._

Vista gasped for breath as the building came down. Rubble and dust filled the air, though probably not as badly as it might have had the water not swallowed up a significant portion of the debris.

_I did that_, she thought. She tried to force herself to stare at the devastation she had wrought, but ended up squeezing her eyes shut and slumping against a convenient wall.

A tidal wave had forced many groundbound capes to seek safety through elevation in the nearby structures, only for Leviathan to smash through each building in turn and send numerous people falling to their deaths.

Seeing that, the Protectorate head of Philadelphia had managed to organise a trap for the Endbringer, baiting him towards one particular building that the San Jose team had been reinforcing, with the Chicago leader finally managing to force it inside.

And Vista had brought it down.

She'd been ordered to do it. She'd assisted in destabilising the structure enough so that it would fall cleanly and warped the space around it so as to direct most of the damage and debris to those trapped within…

She'd done her part well. What had been asked of her. Demanded of her. She was finally taking part in the real fights, the ones that actually _mattered_.

Leviathan had still been inside when she demolished the skyscraper.

But so had the head of the San Jose Protectorate.

_I killed him._

Her armband began listing off the casualties, both from the recent collapse and the tidal wave barely a minute past, but she hardly paid it any attention. She was finally stirred into motion when a large hand grabbed her by the arm and hauled her to her feet.

"Get up," Armsmaster ordered her. "If you're injured, get out of the area. If you're fit to fight, get ready."  
_  
It's not over…?_

He suddenly twisted his head, staring at the pile of rubble that was her magnum opus. _"Be ready!"_ he roared.

Concrete and rebar erupted from the ground as the Endbringer emerged. It spun in place, using its tail like an extra limb to sweep debris at the assembled capes in a more directed manner.

Capes all across the field struggled to find shelter, some dropping flat to the ankle-deep water receding from the roads to avoid projectiles aimed for their heads.

Armsmaster swung and spun his halberd in a complicated-looking arc, destroying or deflecting several missiles from himself and his charge. The motion ended with the shaft tucked beneath his arm and he lowered his stance and charged through the water, leaving Vista still standing numbly in his wake.

She reflexively bent space around her, deflecting a rather large cinder block headed her way as she stared at the renewed melee.

Leviathan was a flurry of limbs; the tall, gangly creature rending and tearing at the air with its arms and tail. Spears of water stabbed out at those closest to it, whilst razor-sharp arcs of water were flung towards those trying to keep their distance.

Throughout it all, water continuously shed off its figure like a second skin. An afterimage that closely followed its movements and ablating against powerful blasts of energy, blunting weaponry, and sanding the flesh off of anyone unfortunate enough to be standing in its vicinity for too long.

Vista raised her hand towards the ongoing furball, ready to… to do _what?_

She could warp space. She could send bullets curving away from her, even back to her opponents if she compressed it enough. She could lengthen or shorten the area around anything she could see, with the only limitation being that people in the area would affect the speed with which she could manipulate the space.

With capes and Endbringer scattered all around in such close proximity, that speed was unfortunately 'very slowly'.

She could still try to lengthen the relative distance between the Endbringer and its next target, but that required knowing where that target would be in advance. Leviathan was far too fast for her to do it as a response.

In terms of years served, she was the most senior Ward. She'd handled gangbangers and even a few capes completely on her own, or with minimal support from the other heroes. She'd always dreamed of proving her reliability to her superiors in age and the best way to do that was live combat.

She'd wanted a fight. A _real _fight… but now that one had broken out she realised just how little she'd truly experience of the world. She'd never truly been scared of someone like Rune. Oni Lee couldn't touch her. Hookwolf could sit and spin in a perpetual treadmill whilst she enjoyed a nice cup of warm milk coffee!

But… what could she do against an Endbringer?

The answer was to bring down buildings and kill her own allies, but little else, it seemed.

She almost envied Armsmaster. He was an asshole. He was socially retarded. He cared far too much about his reputation and inconsequential rules.

But he was always first in line when the call to muster for an Endbringer fight was announced. He had charged headlong into a hopeless melee where participants emerged missing limbs, if they emerged at all. He didn't seem to care if his orders resulted in injuries or fatalities, so long as it made the Endbringer _hurt_.

He was focused on the results. Everything else was secondary.

And that—right here, right now—was the sort of mindset she needed.

Vista squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.

Yes, she had killed a hero. It hadn't been an accident. He'd literally gone to his death knowing the results of the coin flip, and had ordered it anyhow.

But she had _hurt _the Endbringer, or at least harmed its chances of getting what it wanted. She had stalled it enough for reinforcements to arrive. Some of them were dying even now, but she had improved everyone's odds, even if just a tiny bit.

She could live with those results. She could do that again.

She might not do it single-handedly, but she _would _save Brockton Bay.

After all, it's not like the day could've gotten any worse.

As she prepared to march through the water and towards the oncoming fight, a shadow fell across the street and she flicked her gaze upwards.

Her eyes widened.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Stairs.

She hated stairs. They were so… stair-y.

God, if she'd known joining this outfit meant that she'd have to climb stairs then she would have had second—no, _third _thoughts about the whole thing.

Still, there was a lot to be said for sanctioned field tests. Like, really, not just being allowed but _encouraged _to go as wild as she liked?

This was _great_.

She kicked the door open, not caring if the rusted hinges shrieked with the sound of tortured metal, and stomped towards the far end of the room.

She was not the first person there. A figure sat at a desk situated beneath the window, a filthy pillow cushioning the barrel of a fairly large anti-material rifle as it poked out over the skyline.

Her boots crunched through bits of fallen apartment as she swung her duffel bag through the air and onto a nearby bunk bed. Her ass hit the cushions seconds later as she leaned over and opened the bag, revealing a haphazard pile of metal and plastics.

The sniper ignored her entrance in favour of leaning to the side slightly, then squeezing the trigger of her rifle to release a loud _boom_. Without moving, the form of the gun wavered like a heat mirage and re-solidified in the exact same position—_boom_—flicker—_boom_.

"Triple tap with a sniper rifle, _niiiice_," the intruder drawled. She reached into her bag and pulled out an oblong shell with a firing pin hastily welded to one end. "So, the lizard lady suggested through my glorified wrist-watch that you and I have 'synergy.'" She held up her hands and twitched her fingers, the ones on her right hand barely visible around the large explosive. "Can you do mortars?"

The sniper glanced back at her and sat up as the rifle melted into a large bowie knife, only to flicker again as she raised her hands and ended up holding a long, cylindrical tube over her shoulder. "I've got one better. If you can make it fly straight."

"Bitch, _please_," came the reply. "I am not just a one-trick pony. I do _high-quality_ work, even if that means the boring shit that comes with making it worth my while."

Despite having made her boast, the woman was in the process of high-quality working (read: hastily super-gluing) a trio of fins to one end of the improvised Tinker explosive. After a few moments she held it at arm's length and eyeballed the result, only to curse and use a pair of pliers to bend one of the fins ever so slightly.

The shooter's bazooka simply flickered in her hands to adjust for the new structure of the projectile and slid it into the breech once the Tinker had finally released it to her custody. "Range?" she asked.

"Big," came the reply with a smile full of teeth.

The shooter pressed one hand to her wrist. "Advisory: Tinker explosives. Wide area of effect."

_"Acknowledged,"_ came the tinny reply. _"Stand by."_

The Tinker walked over to the window and propped her hip against the desk, staring outside at the ongoing battle, whistling tunelessly.

A few moments later the armband crackled to life once more. _"Authorisation granted. You are clear to fire."_

The shooter peered into the sight and shifted her aim slightly. "Fire in the hole!" She pressed the trigger and the grenade rocketed into the distance.

After a bare few seconds, there was a silent flare of light and the air shimmered within a globe that covered nearly one-quarter of a block around a particular intersection. A split second later the globe contracted and a bright column of released energy stretched to the sky and simultaneously carved a hole into the ground.

Bakuda raised her arms in glee, _"Ta-ma-yaaaaaa!"_ She sighed and draped herself across the windowsill. "Aah, listen to those sounds of distress. I know you white hats don't appreciate it, but it's music to my ears."

Miss Militia adjusted her scope and leaned forward slightly. "I'd hate to rain on your parade, but I don't think that's because of you…"

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Shielder reflexively covered his eyes even as his shield snapped to life. He was bowled back by the impact as Leviathan took offense to the miniature black hole someone had shot at him and replied by throwing an arc of water at the building several streets away.

He hadn't even been the target, just unfortunate enough to be in the path of the tail as it sliced through the air.

His ballistic flight was arrested as his shield bumped into another's and he used the recoil from the impact to bring himself under control. He nodded thanks to his sister as the two squared off against the Endbringer scrambling along the walls of the buildings in front of them.

Laserdream opened up with streams of coherent ruby light that created small puffs of steam against the deluge of water pouring off from Leviathan's skin. She cut off her attack and retreated behind him as a flick of the beast's tail arced another blade of water at them, only to be intercepted by his sturdier azure shields.

Meanwhile a cloud of debris marked where initial barrage of waterblades had impacted the sniper's nest, but as the smoke cleared Shielder noticed that several of the waterblades had somehow frozen in midair, blocking the followup shots for a critical moment before a massive pile of ice fell to the ground short of the structure, their collective momentum spent.

The Endbringer dug its claws into the building and pivoted, suddenly speeding towards the two siblings. Their reflexive responses were as varied as their appearance, which was unfortunate for the pair.

Had the two of them simply retreated at their best speed, they could have avoided the attack completely. Had they stuck together and reinforced the other's shield, they may have been able to tank the attack head-on for a brief moment. Instead, Laserdream flew backwards evasively as Shielder brought his namesake to life and stood his ground.

Leviathan's tail struck the shield and wrapped around it, the tip whipping around the obstacle and slicing through the back of Laserdream's leg as she fled, turning her pivot into an uncontrolled spin as the pain made her momentarily lose control over her flight. As such, she was unable to help her brother as the Endbringer's limb held tight and began to _squeeze_.

The shield flared into near-opacity as Shielder struggled to keep it from shattering, the feedback bringing him to his knees… or would have, had he not been floating. The pain was too much, the stress too great, and Shielder's mind whited out as his only protection was crushed like an egg, the tail contracting to slice him through as he fell.

Except in the brief moment between the shield's failure and the tightening of Leviathan's tail, a huge mass fell from the sky upon the Endbringer, the coils slipping free harmlessly as it was driven into the ground.

Meanwhile, several bundles of elastic threads struck Laserdream and slowed her tumble, then bungied her back into the air before her uncontrolled fall could land her on top of a very angry Endbringer.

The surrounding capes stared at the temporarily fallen monster, then—almost as one—glanced at the empty sky.

Then they looked back down at the ground, where _thousands_ of ginormous spiders now littered the streets and buildings. Many appeared to be dead, either from the force of their impact against the ground, crushed by their brethren, or slashed to pieces from the Endbringer even now flaring it's aquatic after-image and washing itself free from the spider-piling.

But many _more _were rising to their feet, skittering back and forth in a living tide of _white _as they turned to face the monster in their midst.

Then the screaming started.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_[FUCK Operation: Parachute. Never again! Never. A. Gain.]_

I know, right?!

_Ahem. _Miracle Magical Master Me has arrived to save the day!

Just listen to those cheers! I'm feeling so loved right about now.


	40. Spiderbringer 2

**Spiderbringer 2**

As a metaphorical white tidal wave poured forth to swarm the Endbringer, it answered with a literal one, contemptuously washing away the swarm that infringed upon its personal space.

What it couldn't simply wash away, however, was the intricately woven web that pinned it to the ground. Silk piled layer upon layer in a dense blanket, yet one that was still porous enough to allow the water it generated to flow away relatively harmlessly.

This allowed a momentary lull in the fighting for various participants to either catch their breath in relief, begin shouting in an attempt to restore order, or simply stand there numbly wondering _what the hell was going on._

Even Dragon had mostly been caught unawares, the sensors and programs that went into the automated alerts for her wristbands barely managing a proximity alert bare seconds before Shelob had made her abrupt entrance.

Seconds was all that Leviathan gave the defenders for a grace period before it simply began thrashing in attempt to physically itself free from the webbing, but that may as well have been an eternity to the figure floating high above.

Alexandria was the quintessential cape. Mobility, intelligence, and durability wrapped into a single form. The only thing that kept her from being considered the absolute strongest cape was the relative simplicity to her kit, which was why her compatriot Eidolon generally held that particular title.

Alexandria could fly faster than a human could see. She was invincible. An entire subclass of capes had been named after her, the so-called 'Alexandria Packages': those with powers that combined some form of super-toughness and flight. But, oddly enough, people seemed to keep forgetting that she possessed super-powered intelligence as well. It wasn't just perfect recall, she could glance at a dense wall of text and recite it verbatim seconds later. It took her hardly any time to learn a new skill that might take the best human professor years just to nail down the basics. She was a veritable fountain of knowledge, should anyone bother to seek her out for that purpose.

Few had really taken up the offer. She'd even given a blatant reminder to the public in the form of her sigil, a tower that represented the vaunted Library of Alexandria that rested upon her chest. She didn't question that, however, since her training into various theories of human psychology gave her a single, obvious theory.

An Earth-aleph movie had even put it into words, "A person is smart. People are dumb, panicky, dangerous animals."

So, as the mob of capes in the local area scattered in a panicked reaction to swarm's arrival and Leviathan's renewed offensive, a single cape took a subjective eternity to _think._

Shelob had grown far beyond projections made when the Protectorate had initially run into it. It was undeniable that a level of growth had been displayed between each successive encounter culminating with the one in Philadelphia. With the Protectorate there having put forth the theory that the spider was a singular cape and not a horde of biologically constructed parabeasts—in other words, that this growth had not been artificially induced—they'd thrown their best Thinkers at it. Watchdog had confirmed the growth rate to be non-linear from the data provided, but seeing a specimen large enough to straddle the face of Leviathan and dig in with a pair of sharpened forelimbs nearly as thick as her wrist was… a sight to behold.

The organic net—which had enough material woven into it that it nearly counted more as a _blanket_—that pinned Leviathan down was a masterwork of function, considering how little time had actually elapsed since Leviathan had made landfall. It was thick enough to be a significant weight against the prone Endbringer, which limited the amount of leverage it could bring to bear, but it contained enough holes in the resulting fabric that his attempts to throw it off with water were fruitless.

The fact that the edges adhered to the surface of the nearby streets and buildings showed just how casually Shelob treated its duplicates. Ordinary webbing would never have been enough to keep Leviathan from simply throwing the thing off. But by mixing in the swarm that had been carefully spaced around the circumference and allowing them to be pulped against the ground, a sort of paste with adhesive properties had been created that was far stronger than anything Alexandria would have thought could be made on such short notice.

Just how much thought had Shelob put into this sort of trap? She wasn't even sure if _she _could escape from such a thing, given how much trouble it was giving Leviathan.

Not to mention the ease with which the web had zeroed in on Leviathan's moving form. Not much time had elapsed since the first sighting of their foe, but the battle had been a highly mobile one. Leviathan had sped from street to street and it took almost everything the assembled capes had just to keep up with it, more often losing their fighting strength from mis-positioning than not. For the web to have come down at the angle it did, Shelob would have had to launch its strike from extremely far away in a ballistic arc shortly after the fighting had broken out. Indirect fire was meant for stationary targets, it was notoriously difficult to hit something moving, which meant Shelob had somehow known or calculated in advance where Leviathan would be at the time of impact.

Should they win the day, Alexandria was definitely going to be pressing for a higher Thinker rating on the spider just for that singular attack.

That level of awareness, combined with the ruthlessness with which it sacrificed its duplicates, showed that Shelob had clearly been holding back in the Protectorate's earlier encounters. They should have gathered as much from the reports of Brockton Bay's villainous scene rapidly altering over the last few months, but this degree of tactical ability was completely unexpected.

Alexandria liked to believe that she could take the measure of a person at a glance. Her studies into human psychology and long years in politics had allowed her to develop an almost intuitive grasp of behavior. She could cold-read a person simply from their posture and the minute shifting of their expression. She could see that same person making decisions almost before their minds would consciously bring itself to a conclusion. She had a significant success rate in gauging the sincerity of people she sat down in interviews with, so she trusted her ability.

The way Shelob was determinedly riding out Leviathan's thrashing in favour of doing as much damage to its eyes caused an involuntary shiver to run down Alexandria's spine.

All of her learning told her one thing: Shelob was far more ruthless and tactically-minded than anyone had theorised.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

AHHHH!

_[AHHHHHHHH!]_

LET ME OFF THIS SHITTY RIDE ALREADY!

_[Who even thought of Operation: Parachute?! Was it you?! I bet it was you! Why the hell would you even think such a thing was possible?!]_

「「「ʜᴇᴇᴇᴇʟᴘ ᴜsss ᴡᴇ'ʀᴇ ʙᴇɪɴɢ ᴡᴀsʜᴇᴅ ᴀᴡᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀʏ!」」」

He's moving around so much, I can barely hang on!

_[Set up a firing line and check your line of sight! Fire at will!]_

「「「ʀᴏɢᴇʀ!」」」

Somebody save me!

_[FIREEEEE!]_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

In Alexandria's defense, even a person with her connections doesn't get many chances to obtain practical experience on reading sapient arthropod body language.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Legend was in the business of saving the world. Everything he did was aimed at that singular purpose. Though the population at large believed their time to be limited, the majority of folks were utterly misdirected as to what the form of their doom would take. It was widely held that civilisation would most likely end at the hands of the Endbringers, thus their all too-appropriate moniker.

Unfortunately, the Endbringers were not the heralds of doom that Legend and his fellows were fighting against. They could certainly bring down everything mankind had built upon their heads if left unchecked—which was why they were still worth fighting against—but humanity's true Enemy was far more insidious. Having said that, he knew that humanity being able to go toe to toe with an Endbringer was probably the bare minimum threshold for even thinking of surviving that ever-present threat. He could come to no other conclusion, especially after having witnessed the Enemy's might firsthand.

He believed with his whole heart that the Protectorate was the best way to achieve such a goal. By collecting the various parahumans of the world beneath their banner, nurturing them in an environment that promoted cooperation, and encouraging them to find new ways to explore their powers in a way that benefited humanity as a whole, Legend was optimistic that, someday, the answer to their prayers would be found.

That said, he was enough of a realist that he wouldn't be surprised if salvation came from a singular individual outside the Protectorate. Alexandria, in particular, seemed particularly focused on many of the deviant Case-53's that had been popping up around the world. Their effectiveness varied almost as wildly as their appearances, so he could see the worth in pursuing that avenue of investigation, but sometimes he felt as if she treated it with such seriousness as if it were some sort of pet research project. Oddly enough, however, she had been resistant to labeling the monstrous cape under the PRT's case file even though—in his admittedly inexpert opinion—Shelob fit the criteria to a T.

Was Shelob strong enough to help them against the Enemy by itself? Legend wasn't certain, although the pace of its growth was certainly promising. From being something that relied on it's natural spider silk to trip up an unpowered response team, to a creature that could use limited parahuman abilities to support other capes and squeak out a successful escape, if not a victory, to something that could go face to face with an Endbringer—for… almost thirty seconds now—and not get instantly mulched into a paste?

It was fantastic. It lifted Legend's spirits to see it. But although the strange cape had displayed a firm grasp of coordination tactics and an above-average power, its coordination was only with itself. Shelob had thus far displayed no inclination that it was willing to work with others. Plus—he shook his head as the streets and nearby buildings erupted with needles of verdant light—for how much firepower the spider had displayed so far, it simply wasn't _strong _enough yet.

He didn't often think of himself as a prideful man, but if anyone understood lasers, he wasn't so modest as to deny that he ranked as one of the top experts. The sheer output the spider swarm was putting out was impressive as they drilled into the trapped Endbringer in their midst, but if all it took to take one out was a concentration of firepower, then Legend would have been an Endbringer-slayer hundreds of times over by now.

Still, no point in letting a good opportunity to waste. Leviathan was still pinned down and showed no signs of breaking free from its restraints anytime soon. The man in blue stretched out his arms and added his own coruscating blasts to the mix, even as the rest of the defenders followed suit and resumed the assault. /╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\  
_**Green**__**Yellow**__**Orange**__**Red**__**Purple**__**BLACK**__**BLACK**__**BLACK**__**BLACK**_

AHH! We're under attack!

Betrayal! I came to help defend my home and now everyone is—is…

I'm still standing on top of the Endbringer, aren't I?

_[Yyyep.]_

The Endbringer everybody is trying to kill?

_[Mhmm.]_

The Endbringer _we _are also trying to kill?

「「「sᴏʀʀʏ!」」」

_[Your powers of stating the obvious remains intact. But please, do continue.]_

Why didn't you say anything?!

_[I was curious how long it would take you to notice. I was right. It took getting shot before you realised anything.]_

You suck!

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Eidolon was bored.

He was doing good work, he knew. It was a vital task, preventing the various tidal waves Leviathan was stirring up from hitting the city and destroying their manpower.

It was a good challenge as well, since he couldn't simply wall off the coastline. Leviathan was far too strong an opponent for that to be effective. So, instead he'd gathered an ability that allowed him to see the focal points of Leviathan's efforts—areas where the hydrokinetic was applying pressure, starting feedback loops that oscillated the waters back and forth in ever-increasing magnitudes until they were let loose upon the hapless city.

By picking out the focus of the Endrbringer's efforts, Eidolon was able to counter him with various combinations of his remaining two power slots. For now at least, he was making do by applying abilities that hindered Leviathan's and cancelled the waves even as they formed. Yet despite the furious fighting going on in the city, the Endbringer was somehow still able to keep a portion of its attention on the bay and this side-conflict. It tried different things, such as creating a vacuum within the water that would naturally result in a wild plume. It used the water itself to drum the seabed and simulate an earthquake. At one point it simply lifted a large globe of liquid and hurled it through the air towards the city; the fact that the cape floating there was in the water's path was simply a bonus.

It was remarkable, in that the Endbringer only had water to play with, yet it could do so _much _with it. Its versatility was both breathtaking and humbling. For Eidolon himself, he had no natural skill with any particular power, but that lack of mastery was easily offset with the ability to bring up a near-endless array of power combinations to achieve results. Swapping the powers he had available to himself to counter each new trick the Endbringer was bringing to bear was exhilarating.

It was a challenging puzzle.

It was noble work that would definitely save lives and limit casualties.

From the corner of his eye, Eidolon noticed the various cape formations in the city breaking up as they were forced to react to the Endbringer shifting its personal attack patterns yet again.

His shoulders slumped slightly as he turned his attention back to the waters. The manipulations were becoming stronger. More brute-forced. Sneakier, even. He'd already had to trade in the powers reserved for his perception slot twice already and it seemed Leviathan was figuring out a way to get around his latest one too. That force wall was starting to look more and more tempting by the second.

Still, he wished someone else were able to take on this thankless task so he could pit his mettle against the Leviathan directly.

So. Goddamned. _Boring…_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_[This isn't working.]_

I know! We're getting shot! Being ground-zero for several thousand Corrosive Bolts plus someone vomiting a rainbow on us, plus I'm pretty sure somebody launched a grenade on us too!

Blink!

_[Have you seen Leviathan? Its skin is charred, we have an eyeball stuck to a scythe—well, not anymore—and it's still moving around just as much as it was before. In fact, I think it's getting loose.]_

The parachu—er, I mean the net which we totally planned to pin him down with isn't working anymore? Scatter!

_[Containment! We've got to keep him pinned down!]  
_  
Digging into his skin feels like putty, too! Where's the meat on this guy?!

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

As Leviathan finally ripped free of its restraints, the assembled capes began to scatter. Alexandria aided their withdrawal by flying straight into the beast and slamming it back down to the pavement before it could fully rise to its feet.

The motion only briefly delayed it, however, as Leviathan simply made use of the water already coating the ground to slide away as if skating along ice. Once out of her range, it slammed its arms to the asphalt and literally threw itself into the sky, tearing a pair of unlucky fliers in half as it passed.

Alexandria launched herself after it but was almost immediately forced to break off as Leviathan's watery afterimage manifested itself behind her and closed in along her approach vector. Even as she flew in an evasive pattern, she saw a clump of Shelobs manifest themselves in the air around the Endbringer and begin dropping to the ground.

Leviathan rotated into a spin, flailing its arms and tail in a wide arc and clearing the immediate space around it. Many of the newly arrived spiders were gibbed by the direct attack or its water echo. Most of them, however, brought up glowing white barrier globes that blunted the attack into one that simply knocked them away, rather than slicing them into bits.

_The ABB's Oni Lee's transposition with persistent clones_, Alexandria recalled from the reports. Though Shelob's were notable in that they took very basic actions—if any at all—and didn't self-terminate. _Plus New Wave's Shielder._ Fairly obvious, the powers seemed to manifest quite similarly, aside from the different colours of their active use.

She frowned. Except the clones were displaying a much more varied behavior than reports had suggested. The spiders hadn't actually been knocked away by Leviathan's attack. Rather, they were now orbiting the Endbringer at an extremely high speed. It was a superb display of precision flying, except…

She narrowed her eyes slightly, her visor interpreting the motion and zooming in where it tracked her focus.

Yes, they had somehow managed to anchor themselves to the Endbringer using lines of spider silk despite the presence of its water echo. A remarkable display of reflexes, except the clones shouldn't have been able to react to anything at all. Another entry towards the 'Shelob was sandbagging' column…

Like tether balls wrapped around a pole, the shielded spiders traveled faster and faster, their own momentum bringing themselves closer and closer to the Endbringer—

Until the water flowing over Leviathan's skin finally sluiced through the silk lines and allowed the spiders' own centripetal acceleration to fling them into the nearby buildings. The shields crumpled under the impacts, their occupants not faring much better. /╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\  
This isn't working!

_[I just said that not even five—]_

That fucking water keeps blunting our attacks and makes it hard to attach any Grappling Threads! And there's _still_ nothing to eat!

_[Without any way to keep him from continuously generating that, attacking him head-on will be quite difficult.]_

BURN THE WATER!

_[...no.]_

…Slice the water?

_[I don't think a Spider Slice has the force necessary to break through that layer. Not at our current size. Cutting Threads suffer from the same limitations as all of our other threads.]_

Do we use… _it _then?

_[It?]_

Y'know… _it._

_[I have no idea what you're talking about.]_

That's the spirit! Wink. Wink.

_[I came into awareness after you did whatever you're talking about and your memories are no help because I'm just getting an image of you sticking fingers into your ears going 'lalalalala']_

Well, if my current loadout isn't working, then clearly I need to try something different.

_[We're in a target-rich environment, we could always… acquire more skills.]_

Hmm… yeah that's not a bad idea. But it's a little bit harder when we're not as sneaky.

_[So we become even sneakier, or we find a way to justif—ENDBRINGER!]_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Alexandria just barely managed to follow Leviathan out the other side of the building before the structure came down around the hole they had both torn through the framework. She emerged from the debris cloud just in time to see the Endbringer swipe one arm through the air, the water on the ground ahead of it swelling and arcing into a wave of water aimed at the solitary white figure perched on a stoplight.

The spider shifted around and raised its limbs, but rather than the full-covering shield the flying brick had expected to appear, Shelob allowed the water to reach the tip of its legs before the whole wave abruptly vanished.

Leviathan hardly seemed fazed, hitting the ground after its leap and transitioning smoothly into a pounce towards the lone spider. Just as it became airborne, a wave of water struck it from behind and Alexandria belatedly noticed another spider suspended from against the wall of another building to the side.

_Myrddin_, she mentally catalogued. Seemingly limited in scope, as so far she had only received reports of it making use of his 'dimensional pocket' ability and none of the Chicago leader's more esoteric uses. However, it appeared that each of Shelob's clones could make use of the same pocket, as the redirected attack had just demonstrated.

Her mind raced with the implications. She knew Myrddin had often demonstrated the ability to seal enemies and allies within his pockets. He'd simply never attempted it on an Endbringer due to the threat to his safety such close proximity would entail. If Shelob was able to use it through relatively trivial duplicates…

The spider's thoughts seemed to be running parallel to her own, as it swiveled to face the oncoming Endbringer directly and leapt off its own perch in a beeline towards it.

…Except it had apparently decided to proceed with its main body instead of using a clone.

Shelob's face wasn't suited for making expressions, but Alexandria somehow had the impression that its eyes widened in horror as the spider reached out with a sharp claw to poke Leviathan… and was promptly pulped against the ground as the Endbringer refused to vanish into the ether and promptly brought its much larger momentum into play by driving the both of them into the street.

Okay, maybe Shelob _wasn't_ so casual with the safety of its main body.

The Endbringer was back on its feet in an instant, swiveling around to face back where it had come as the spider on the building spun out a thread and retreated out of sight. It would have leapt after, but by then Alexandria had closed the distance and duplicated its previous attack with a flying punch that scraped its white face against the asphalt.

She retreated in good order to avoid any retaliatory strikes as the more mobile capes in their army caught up and reengaged. Leviathan seemed to scan the sky briefly before lowering its head and staring at the newer arrivals, its green eyes seeming to glow balefully.

Alexandria had the sudden impression that the Endbringer was _settling _for a fight against her and the reinforcing capes. The thought triggered an almost forgotten sense of competition within and she felt her fists tighten with indignation. In almost the same instance, her gut tightened with worry.

Endbringers always had a goal; the destruction of cities was always a secondary priority for them. It was always something they could twist to their purposes, to make any obvious defeat pale in comparison to an aftermath that wouldn't become apparent until weeks, months, or even years down the line.

The Simurgh's were always the worst, to coincide with its relatively weaker attacks, but every Endbringer fight was a mess not just for the defenders, but for the various Thinkers and other agencies working around the clock to categorise anything they could think of that could go wrong and attempting to preemptively address it.

It could have been Leviathan playing mind games—Alexandria herself had to consider every option, including the concept that the Endbringer was double-bluffing them. But the way it had suddenly focused and chased after Shelob at every opportunity since the spider's arrival, could it be… ? /╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\  
Is it gone yet?

_[Y-yeah, I think it finally stopped chasing us.]_

What gives? I'm just one spider, it's not like I'm Triumvirate-tier—I can't even fly!

_[Well, we need to rethink our strategy. We need better distractions and we need to find some way to deal a decisive blow.]_

We can do _'it!'_

_[…right. So _I _need to rethink our strategy. Need to find a way to coordinate with the defenders or at least find a plausible reason for them to let us nom them.]_

Well, at least things can't get much worse than th—

_[WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT?!]_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_Priority message from Alexandria: Keeps tabs on the unaffiliated parahuman designated 'Shelob'. Note any sightings to your group leaders or across the priority channel._

Shelob? The Trump that some in the Protectorate were calling the next Glaistig Uaine? It was in Brockton Bay?

Eidolon glanced over his shoulder towards the city currently being ravaged by combat. For a moment, he was tempted to swap in a power that would give him a measure of clairvoyance so he could see what was going on, but he realised his duties.

It was dull, but it was an important job.

Very important.

Shelob. Hmm. He'd gotten a sharp reprimand for abandoning his post and flying to Philadelphia all those months ago, but the PR office had managed to downplay it as a spontaneous reinforcement mission for the temporarily indisposed Chevalier. As such, he'd been confined to base and hadn't really been able to join in the search for the mysterious parahuman until it had become apparent that they had already fled the city.

Disappointing, but many things were nowadays.

Eidolon wasn't stupid, he knew exactly why he was out here doing an important, but relatively simple task. He was far from the Eidolon of so many years ago, back before the Protectorate had been formed, back when the Triumvirate had been the Quadrumvirate.

He was getting weaker.

Every use of his abilities was drawing from a massive, but still limited well of energy. He was still currently far stronger than any other parahuman alive, but he'd be of no use to anyone against the Enemy if he allowed that well to dry up against relatively inconsequential opponents. The public could never know, of course, which was why he simply couldn't hide himself away until that dark day finally arrived. Nobody could know that he was trying to ration out his power by putting in the smallest efforts possible. Nobody could know that the Strongest Man in the World had a time limit that was rapidly approaching.

So it was important, being out here. Being seen by the public, but doing nothing too strenuous. By defending the city against the manipulations of Leviathan he could—

er…

Wait.

When did _that _happen?

Eidolon stared down at the water. Even from his elevation he could see the massive upwelling that was building up, far too strong for him to easily disperse. Far too late to do anything but give warning to the defenders.

"Oops?"

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_Priority Alert: TIDAL WAVE._


	41. Spiderbringer 3

**Spiderbringer 3**

What is the goal?

To defeat the Endbringer that nobody has been able to defeat.

What is the issue?

Well, there is just one minor setback. Really, more like a bump in the road. You can barely notice it if you squint. But, the truth is...

Well…

I can't hurt him.

Claws reinforced for extra stabbiness barely gouged anything out of Leviathan's flesh. I'm pretty sure I pulled out one of his four eyes and it didn't even blink at me. And let's not even talk about how well my fangs did. At least with Glory Girl I had the excuse of some sort of invulnerable skin; this guy's just _ignoring _my attacks.

But, unfortunately, not ignoring _me_.

Big difference. I should know. It's scary as hell.

Even a barrage of Corrosive Bolts hardly did anything! Although in that case it might be just because the toxins kept being washed away before they could really seep in.

So that's nomming out, venom is out, acid is out, and the same thing that kept the last one from working is keeping my threads impotent as well.

What is the fix?

_Nom more powers._ I don't know why Eidolon isn't getting down and dirty with the Endbringer, even though I'm pretty sure I saw him hovering around somewhere on my way down to meet the ground (heeeh, I'm a poet, I know it!), but clearly there's gotta be something amongst the gathered assembly that I can combo together to bring on the hurt.

So, what's the problem?

Well, there… _might _be a school of thought that considers nomming capes an attack upon their person.

Now, I'm not saying those people are right!  
…but even my public awareness by osmosis knows that Endbringer fights are widely considered to be one of those situations where all disagreements are set aside in favour of bringing the hurt upon a greater threat.

So, some people might take just a biiiit of offense at a harmless nibble, even if it's for the greater good.

「「「ᴛʜᴇ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ ɢᴏᴏᴅ... 」」」

Solution?

Hmm…

HMM…

Nope. I got nothin'.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"Tracking?!"

_No data available. Leviathan last seen in the vicinity of grid DF-3._

Armsmaster fought back the growl that threatened to escape his throat. He'd _had _the beast. His experiment with the nanothorn attachment had proven capable of piercing even the Endbringer's thick hide, so naturally the monster had taken the first opportunity to escape his reach.

Alexandria had quickly given chase but there was little the rest of the army could do in the meantime. That didn't keep him from following on foot at his own best speed, hoping to re-engage as soon as possible. But where the rest of the flying capes had promptly followed their leader, most of the remaining combatants left behind had simply collapsed where they stood or moved towards a handy vertical surface to brace themselves against.

Armsmaster wasn't blind to others' perception of himself as a socially inept workaholic, he simply didn't find their opinions to be anything of worth. True, had he cultivated more of a charismatic persona, perhaps he would have had an army of loyal followers charging in his wake, himself at the head of a glorious army.

Rather like the Triumvirate cape had, in fact. Not that he was envious of Alexandria's popularity.

She wasn't the most personable of capes herself, which was why Legend was the leader of the Protectorate, as well as the world's preeminent Triumvirate.

In fact, he considered the taciturn flyer to be evidence that his path was not the incorrect one. After all, if Alexandria could earn the following she did on her own merits, despite her personality, then it was a given that Armsmaster could do the same, in time.

_That will be me, someday_, he'd long-ago promised himself.

But even the noted flying brick was not perfect, as she had allowed Leviathan to slip through her cordon. Of course, he'd been to enough Endbringer fights to know that one didn't _let _one do anything, but she could have at least kept a better eye on it so as not to _lose _it.

Without anyone else nearby—he'd quickly outpaced even the few who had bothered trying to run after him—he allowed himself a brief moment of retasking. There was no use running around aimlessly until Leviathan resurfaced, so he simply channeled his energy along more efficient paths.

It wasn't resting. Rest was for Other People.

"Note," he said into his helmet's subvocal pickups. "Investigate high-tensile, permeable materials for use in restricting movement. Filter results for compressibility, adhesive rating, and ease of manufacture, if any."

_Noted__,_ his armour's virtual intelligence replied.

"Backup all data of the previous five minutes onto my personal server."

_Error 503: Server unavailable._

Right… Armsmaster glared in the direction of the coastline. Of course, Leviathan's first action had been to beach the converted oil rig that was home to Brockton Bay's Protectorate base, effectively taking it out of commission for the foreseeable future. His servers would still have survived—his backups ensured that—but with the various communication relays offline he had no way to reach it.

Well, all he'd have to do was survive this fight to keep the information saved into his armour intact, something he'd been planning on doing in the first place.

Redundancies always made him feel better, though.

As he… passively restored his body's energy reserves, Armsmaster preoccupied his hands by checking his halberds. He was glad that he'd taken the time to do so, as the intake filters for the new module's coolant system were already showing signs of clogging up. Resolving that should extend the operational lifespan of the attachment by almost a factor of three. That still meant they'd probably fail within the hour, but that's why he had brought along a spare.

As he busied himself with preventative field maintenance, his mind wandered back to his observations of the past few minutes. Shelob had finally shown itself, as he knew it would. Now was not the time to wonder why the Protectorate had instituted the information blackout on Shelob's capabilities.

(Well, he knew the reason they had _given_, but it made no sense to him given the havoc the uncontrolled parahuman had wreaked against the local cape scene. It was almost as if they wanted the chaos and infighting Shelob had brought about, although that was probably an unfair assessment borne of his frustration.)

The important thing to note was what she was capable of _now_. The improvised netting had only been one trick the spider (or it's controller; despite what Watchdog had claimed he remained convinced there was a greater mind at work behind the spider swarm's activities) had brought to the table. Leaving aside the rumoured sightings and incidents of the past few months, if there was truth to Shelob being a power copier then it had ready access to a banquet of powers _now_.

Armsmaster's gauntlets tightened around the haft of his weapon. And should Shelob take advantage of that without so much as a by-your-leave…

_Alert__._ His HUD flashed a warning light. His sensors scattered across the battlefield had picked up something.

_Finally!_ His thoughts immediately flickered away from its pointless musing and narrowed to a sharp focus. His hands automatically finished its last few tweaks to his halberd and stowed it against the carrying rack on the back of his armour.

A diagnostic check for his mobility systems came up green; he was ready to move as soon as Dragon confirmed the information from his sensors and passed on the information across the channels.

Then he would finally take down the monster—

_Priority Alert: TIDAL WAVE._

—or he could get himself the hell off the streets.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

You're sure?

_[Positive.]_

H'okay, so, here's the plan…

_[And man, it is a _sweet _plan, you might say…]_

「「「ᴡᴀᴠᴇ!」」」

ABANDON THE PLAN!

_[No, wait! We can use this!]_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"…and did you see the way I totally froze that shit headed for us? Man, I am good! He was like,_ '__Ima gonna throw this shit at you hotties,'_ and I was like, _'__NOPE! Have a freeze grenade!'_ and then all the shit was like, _'__Oh no I'm frozen!'_ and then they all hit the ground! And what's left?"

Miss Militia ignored her companion as she—hopefully unknowingly—did her very best to distract her from battlefield overwatch. They had already abandoned the previous building she'd been holed up in, but despite taking advantage of a grappling gun to make her escape into the next high-rise over, Bakuda had casually utilised some sort of device that somehow launched her across the street after her without missing a beat.

Through the power of explosives. Somehow.

Fucking Tinkers.

"That's right, _this bitch!_ The same bitch that's gonna fuck up an Endbringer with a black hole generator! Or, or, how about this one? It's a fucking time bomb I figured out from watching your little boyscout. Get it? _Time bomb?_ Hey, have you found him yet? What good is hiding all the way out here if you can't spot a thirty-foot tall lizard less than a mile away? Lung's smaller than that and the way he tells it you find him easily anytime you white hats need an ass-whooping."

Unfortunately, there was no room in the truce to allow for stabbing an overly hyper Tinker trying to talk your ear off when trying to focus. Miss Militia would have quoted the relevant regs, except—like most things cape related—it was an 'unwritten rule' and mostly passed on by word of mouth. Normally that would have meant there would be no legal obstacles against shanking the villain on a post-explosmic high, but her perfect recall helpfully informed her that there had been no instance where such an argument had been accepted by the community.

But, whilst she had no luck finding the strangely elusive Endbringer, her elevation meant had no problems seeing the larger picture.

She quickly jabbed the priority message on her wristband. "Priority alert: incoming tidal wave, headed straight downtown."

_Priority alert acknowledged._

She ignored the repeated warnings coming from the device as she dropped her gaze back to the city. "Bakuda, do you happen to have something that blows up your eyes but temporarily gives you perfect clairvoyance over an area? Just out of professional curiousity."

The Cornell Bomber paused in her one-sided discussion and tapped her mask's chin thoughtfully. "No… but that _does _give me a few ideas. But never mind that, I actually have binoculars here somewhere."

The other woman bent over to begin rummaging around through her duffel bag and eventually raised her arm triumphantly with the tool in question. "Ahah! You doubted the utility of my Utility Bag! But, I'm sad to say Miss America, you will not pull one so easily over the best Tinker in the…"

Miss Militia continued her observations through the scope of her trusty anti-material rifle as Bakuda's voice trailed off.

"...in…"

She carefully adjusted the sights, re-zeroing the crosshairs to account for the higher humidity in the air.

"…Shit."

"I promise to keep my eyes on the scope and to not tell anyone that you didn't consider any alternatives to using your binoculars without needing to take off your full-faced mask," she said politely.

"…Fuck you."

The sound of plastic tabs being released and muffled swearing filled the silence as a sudden motion caught Miss Militia's eye.

"Once you're set up," she said authoritatively, "look towards Addison and Fifth and tell me I'm not seeing things."

"Just don't turn around," a startlingly meek voice spitted out. Without the vocoder built into her mask, Bakuda sounded much less abrasive. It rather sounded like a puffball of a kitten trying to hiss warningly and just as hard to take seriously.

Miss Militia was tempted to peek over her shoulder. Just for a moment. But, sadly, duty took a higher precedence. Besides, she _had _made a promise.

"Holy shit that's a lot of 白い蜘蛛."

The two watched through their respective telescopic devices as a swarm of white spiders emerged from the various building rooftops and skittered towards the shoreline. Many of them jumped down for ground level whilst others simply _appeared _in place and began running.

The groundbound capes unable to react to the wave alert in time suddenly found themselves caught between two approaching tides. A good many responded… naturally, by turning their abilities upon the incoming swarm. Because whilst a tidal wave might be certain doom, that still beat being run over by _spiders_.

Those who held their fire, either from a greater sense of restraint or curiousity, still flinched as the swarm rushed past them and met the oncoming wave with their own bodies. Lights flashed and flickered as the swarm created shields in an initial attempt to simply block the tide. Unfortunately, even their combined numbers did little to stop the massive force behind the water and they were immediately swept back along their path.

Only to be stopped by more of their brethren doing the same thing behind them. And as the combined spider pile was shoved back even more, they met a third wave, and then a fourth, a twelfth… and so on.

Behind the suicidal pack, another thin line of spiders stopped short and extended their forward limbs. The ground before them took on a streak of colour, a pale blueish-purplish gradient that rapidly became darker and more saturated within seconds. Spiders running across this line were suddenly accelerated into the wave and their shielded counterparts still struggling to keep from being swept away.

Many of them snapped out shields in time to avoid being crushed against the growing wall, but the rest didn't react fast enough and got squished, their body parts slowly clogging up the gaps formed by the stacked up globes.

The combined water and spider wall hit the glowing line and were repulsed, inertia being countered by a wall of force inexorably pushing against its path. More shields flickered out under the strain and imploded as their occupants were crushed between the two forces, but still the tide poured on.

"That's disgusting, but shockingly effective," muttered that too-quiet voice behind Miss Militia, who could only silently nod in agreement.

As if taking offense at the defensive line, the wave abruptly pulled back and the leading edge shot skyward. Again it was repelled by the invisible field, and again and again and again; but eventually the water reached a height where it was unimpeded by the strips of colour and it crested over the invisible wall to fall upon the defenders below.

"Endbringers are fucking cheaters," Bakuda swears.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Tidal wave!

_[Get to the capes! Sit on their heads, hide between their legs. Anything!]_

Okay people, don't panic!

I'm helping! Honest!

_[Shields!]_

Stop… wiggling and squirming! This thing is centred around me, y'know?!

Swarm-in-Charge, how are things in your end?

_[We're good here!]_

I'll manage the groups here, you take care of the stragglers along the edges!

_[Compliance!]_

Alright, uh, ladies! Last one to get set up buys dinner!

「「「ʀᴇᴀᴅʏsᴇᴛɢᴏ!」」」

Blink blink blink blink blink!

「「「sʜɪᴇʟᴅs!」」」

Ahhh! The water is really strong!

「ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ʜᴏʟᴅ ɪᴛ!」

「ɪ ᴄᴀɴ'ᴛ!」

「ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴅᴀᴅ ɪ ʟᴏᴠᴇ ʜɪɪɪɪɪɪɪᴍ!」

「sᴘɪᴅᴇʀs ᴅᴏᴡɴ! _sᴘɪᴅᴇʀs ᴅᴏᴡɴ!_」

_[Straggler groups! Plan B!]_

「「「ʀɪɢʜᴛ!」」」

_[Pocket anyone who's not hunkered down behind a shield!]_

「「「_ʙᴏᴏᴘ! _ᴘᴀʀᴋᴏᴜʀ!」」」

_[Get everyone you can to safety!]_

_AAAAHHHGLURBLEGLUBGLUB!_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Vista shrieked as she raised her arms against the approaching wave. The waters arced over and around her, leaving her within a bubble of clear space. The pressure was still immense, however, and she felt her legs buckling as she fought to withstand the enormous forces arrayed against her cocoon of safety.

It…

was…

too…

much…

She felt dizzy from the feedback. It was like a vice was crushing her head. As she keeled over, she saw the waters come crashing down upon her suddenly vulnerable position as her vision went white…

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Bitch glared at the things below her. They looked like bugs, but they had way too many eyes and they were each about the size of dogs.

Which might have been unsettling to most people, but _her _own dogs were a lot _bigger_.

What the hell, this 'fight' was proving to be one big annoyance. It wasn't as if her dogs could hurt the large lizard-fish thing anyhow and she'd already lost Kuro to one misguided attack.

Fucking Tattletale, telling her this was a fight worth having. She really needed something to vent her anger upon.

Come to think of it, these bug things were in giant hamster balls… And… she did have a bunch of giant canines in need of stress relief after losing one of their pack.

Bitch whistled and circled a finger through the air. She finished by pointing at the collection of distractions that had somehow teleported her and her dogs out of the path of the wave.

"Play."

Admittedly, Bitch was not very good at picking up emotional cues, but she had to bare her teeth in a feral grin as the collective seemed to flinch at the sudden focus the pack were giving them.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Chubster returned to consciousness with jarring _thump_.

He winced as he rolled onto his side, his back having seemingly transformed from skin into one giant bruise. As he did, his arm smacked into something unyielding and he slowly opened his eyes to reveal a pair of boots that he'd somehow rolled into.

His eyes trailed up into a young woman kneeling over his prone form. She was in a robe of red and black, one hand resting against his shoulder, the other raised in a warding gesture over his head.

He turned to look back the way he had come and saw a nightmare vision of _eyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyes_—

As he passed out again, the spider that had dropped him off slapped its limbs together as if dusting its hands, turning and leaping away.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Kaiser lowered his hand, the blades that had sprouted from the ground remaining to divert the flood to either side of him. Several more littered the space in between, with several white corpses impaled upon them. Yet more figures, however, remained balanced upon the tips of those blades, somehow having avoided being skewered by the attack.

"A Truce is in effect, you wretched, inhuman thing," he snarled. "Do not approach my person again or I shall take even more offense than I already have."

He didn't know which Shelob was the true one, so he settled for glaring at the one perched atop his blade wall. It seemed to glare right back at him, a thread of malevolence within its large, black eyes.

The Empire's leader paid it no further attention, spinning to put his back to the creature as he marched through the receding waters in search of the ongoing battle.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_[Main Body-in-Charge?]_

SAAAAAAFE! SAFE SAFE SAFE!

Take that, you water thingy! Spiders: one, wave: zilch!

_[Uh… a bit _more _than zilch… just by a bit. But that's not important now. Some of us were attacked by the people we were trying to save.]_

GASP!

_[Did you just say gasp? Nevermind. My point is, we were attacked first. One could argue that the Truce has already been broken?]_

Hmm… maaaaybe? Was it clearly unprovoked?

_[I say it was. We were clearly trying to _help _them.]_

Ooh… I know that tone. You _mad_.

_[I. Am. Upset. But more importantly, I'm feeling rather justified.]_

Hmm. Okay. Green light! Green light! Everyone, make sure you do a handshake with Swarm-in-Charge or it wont work!

「「「ʀᴏɢᴇʀ!」」」

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Vista woke to clear skies, a peaceful atmosphere, and a friendly face.

Actually, it was overcast and raining, the air was filled with the sounds of battle, and eight eyes seemed to stare down at her hungrily.

Worse, Shelob seemed to squeak and suddenly the air reverberated with a thousand voices in chorus.

**_SAVIOR TAX !_**

.

**_Ņ̷̜̬̼͎͚̔̊̓͘͜͜Ó̴̝͋̏̐͂̈͊̅̈́̃͝M̸̡̢̢̯̖̞̩̮̈́͂͐̂̏̂͒̓̏̄̎̅́̇̏͝͠_**

.


	42. Spiderbringer 4

**Spiderbringer 4**

I'd never felt more _alive_, until now.

I could feel everything around me. Feel every change in the relative humidity, hear every cry for help, taste every drop of sweat, literally smell the fear in the air, see every… thing to be seen.

Hey, I'm not a poet—my point is that with the input from thousands of clones scattered around the battlefield, I was almost _omniscient._

It wasn't an awareness without limits—I was still subject to the whims of Time. After all, there were only so many hours in a day, so many minutes to an hour, so many seconds to a minute, so many moments to a second with which I could use to think with. But within those moments, I could think _infinitely._

I had _depth_. I might only have been given seconds to do so, but I could think along twelve, twenty, a hundred, a _thousand, ten-thousand_ different paths within those few seconds.

New data, new connections, new roads of access came flooding into my awareness. Some were aborted, dull things. Connections not properly established before the data being transferred had been lost forever. A portion of my copies had apparently forgotten to metaphysically reach out to me like they'd been instructed and wasted their opportunity to link me up with new hosts. It was a shame, but we'd only had one shot at this to begin with and there were likely to be no chances for a redo. I'd have to make do with what I'd gotten.

It wasn't an insignificant amount, either. New sensations, far too numerous for anyone to possibly keep track of, swept through me. I was somehow able to catalogue them, categorise them, and other parts of me were already hard at work at finding the synergies.

I had new abilities, esoteric and varied. I felt like could talk to plants, that I could drink the light. I heard temperature and I knew with a certainty that I could instantly weave some really, _really _nice web constructs if I wanted to.

I felt like I could take on Behemoth and _win_, if I put my mind to it.

All of that and more. That's a kind of rush that can't truly be described.

Fortunately, the eldest Endbringer wasn't present to test that theory, but as it stood I was pretty certain that I could put the hurt on the middle child.

I could move _fast _now. Only for short bursts, but combined with a skill that drastically slowed down my perception of time I could effectively have instantaneous reactions. Time Out was no longer simply a matter of thinking as a free action. My _actions_ were a free action.

I could be _tough_. I could harden my carapace to levels previously impossible for me to reach. Reinforce the molecular bonds to make my skin tougher and harder to pierce. It could become flexible and more crush resistant. I could layer honeycombed plates so that any chink in the armour would be of limited size and easily contained.

I could be _sharp_. I'd already possessed the ability to hone the tips of my claws into a fine edge, but I'd still been limited by the durability of the material. My carapace could only become so thin before it became brittle. Now with my new options for durability, I could make the edge thinner, sharper, and tougher than ever before. I could aid the slicing power with minute adjustments to the scythes' edges with serrations, with vibrations, or metaphysical extensions.

My breadth of ranged options had exploded. Corrosives would still be a mainstay of my arsenal, but now I could play with fire, lightning, hot, cold—a hundred different elements and intensities. I could fuel my strikes with the power of the sun or heat of the earth's core.

But the real treasure, the crown jewel to my eye, was that _space _was now my _bitch_. With the ability mess with reality on a local scale, a whole host of seemingly useful party favours could become something worthy of being a trump card.

To give an example: one of my new abilities had started out as pretty _meh_. It let me reinforce my durability and resistance at the cost of burning all of my potential and kinetic energy. In other words, in exchange for a brief duration of enforced immobility, all of the momentum I could have gained by moving, stopping, falling, whatever—all of that energy was shunted into a temporary reinforcement which essentially made me an unmovable object. Not terribly useful when my best defense is staying mobile, even if I could tank almost anything for a few seconds.

Next, add in an aerokinetic ability to control the atmosphere around me—complete control over the air molecules. I could push it, pull it, speed it up, slow it down, or even _stop _it.

Finally, combine the two abilities: warp that atmosphere around me and compress a huge volume of space into a relatively smaller area. Force billions of air molecules within that space to stop in place (and possibly hit absolute zero, but that's a different matter). I could steal all of the momentum formerly carried by the _air_ and make it into an invisible, impossibly dense, impervious wall, if only for a brief moment.

Or, by angling that space very carefully, into a _platform_.

It's not quite flight (_How did nobody my clones nom'd give me flight? I coulda sworn there were tons of those capes!_), but it does give me some aerial manoeuvrability.

I had a portal ability. Several portal abilities, actually, thanks to my greater pool of abilities. Headpat-space was no longer a one-way ticket. I could always move myself inside on my own, but now I could return to this reality without having to rely on Labyrinth to pull me out. Booping someone into hammerspace didn't have to be an instantaneous process. Now that I could feel the tear it ripped open into reality I could shove a metaphorical foot into the door and hold it open as a _portal_. Hammerspace seemed impossibly large for all of the shit I'd thrown in there, it would be interesting to see I could make use of that space.

My skillset had more depth. I had more breadth. I was…

I was simply _more_.

Is that what being Eidolon felt like? Endless powers—_all _the powers—at his fingertips? It was quite heady, even if I still didn't have access to as many powers as he did (grrr…). But it felt _amazing._

Come to think of it, maybe it wasn't as many, but I had access to all of my abilities of it at once! No, I wasn't like Eidolon at all. _I was what Eidolon prayed to!_

I AM A GO—

…

_Hrrkgh…_

Okay, I think there must have been some spoiled food in that banquet I'd just partook in. I was about to hurl.

_Uuuurghhhh~_ My head…

…

Hey is that a claw?

_Notetoself: IfIsurvivethisspamTimeOutandkeepitonaslongaspossi—!_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Legend brought his hand up and squeezed it around the armband. "Leviathan sighted, EF… six?"

"Six," his companion confirmed from beside him as they floated above the city skyline.

"EF-6. Shelob also appears have been killed."

_Acknowledged. Stand by for system-wide announcement._

"Belay the casualty announcement for Shelob," Alexandria said, her own hand wrapped around her wrist. "Proceed with the location update."

Legend tilted his head. "Alexandria," he said, not unkindly. "Your plan failed." He pointed down and used one finger as a laser pointer to indicate the Endbringer that had just emerged from the ground below the unlucky spider, shaking off sticky bits of chitin and viscera from its claws. "Shelob is dead. We allowed untold numbers of capes to suffer a friendly fire incident during a truce situation and we didn't even get to see _any _results out of it."

Said laser abruptly expanded into a white-hot beam that sent the Endbringer skidding across the street and evaporated the water around it for several metres.

The grey-clad cape shook her head. "It wasn't my plan, and I've been informed that there are still steps in play."

Legend frowned. "Ah, one of _those _plans." He waved his hand through the air, releasing an umbrella of coherent light that arced towards the ground. These lasers moved relatively slowly enough that Alexandria could trace out the terminating points suggested by their path and noticed the Shelob clones scattered all over the city disintegrating into dust. After another heart beat, the lasers abruptly shifted course and zeroed in on Leviathan, angling around street intersections and other obstacles before drilling into it and knocking it off its feet again.

As other defenders finally responded to Dragon's alert and arrived on the scene, Legend posted his hands on his hips. "The clones are vanishing, I'd say that's clear-cut evidence."

"Look more closely," came the counter. "At the first corpse. Shelob-Prime."

Legend was quiet for several long seconds as he stared down towards the distant ground, filtering out the havoc of combat as the Endbringer battled with the defenders. "It's still in pieces," he concluded.

"But it's still there," Alexandria pointed out.

"It's… it's breaking up, but not disintegrating."

"Nope."

"Its skin is coming off—is it _molting?"_

Alexandra nodded, the zoom on her visor showing the scene with as much detail as Legend's power-assisted vision could.

"How is an entire abdomen being pulled out of just the front-half of a spider? There's a complete size mismatch between the two!"

"Powers are bullshit."

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

That fucking _stings!_ Swarm-in-Charge, why didn't you warn me?!

_[I was… preoccupied.]_

You should have told the mini-mes to be more discerning with who they nommed! I had a splitting headache! That's the perfect time for you to take over and make it so I don't get _sliced in half._

_[I was… you know what? It wasn't important. We're still alive.]_

Speaking of the mini-mes, where'd they get off to?

_[We nommed enough capes that we would have molted later tonight anyhow. We didn't have the time to let it happen naturally, so I forced it through. We needed the extra mass, however, on account of being half the spider we used to be.]_

Thaaaaat sounds kind of ominous, actually. If you did what I think you did, did they agree to that?

_[…they didn't _disagree_…__]_

…Right.

_[Oh look, it's an angry Endbringer. We should probably do something about that.]_

Huh? Hey, yeah! We got new toys! Let 'er rip, Swarm-in-Charge!

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Clockblocker poked his helmet around the corner of the building, looking towards where Armsmaster was leading a group of brutes against the Endbringer. The man's instructions had been very clear: he was to wait until Leviathan was fully engaged in combat and he'd been given the go-ahead to charge in. If they managed to pin Leviathan for any appreciable period of time, that was also a sign for him to break cover and approach.

If the Ward could lay his hands upon the Endbringer, his power meant that they could keep it down long enough for more reinforcements to arrive. Plus, given time and an opportunity to prepare, the defenders could setup more permanent forms of restraint and create a kill box around Leviathan.

He poked his head out again. Nope, it was still moving as fast as the people in those kung-fu movies. Clockblocker knew they cut out film frames to make the actors seem to move faster, so seeing something with that sort of speed in person was slightly unnerving.

He put his back against the wall he was taking cover behind and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths.

_You've got this, Clock. You can do this. You're a hero and your people need you. Your leader believes in you. You've got this. Deep breaths. It's just an Endbringer. Just a really bigger, faster, opponent than you're used to._

His mind and heartbeat slowly relaxed. He felt ready. He just needed to wait for his cue. The hard decision making was mostly out of his hands. All he had to be concerned about was with doing his job. He just had one job.

He opened his eyes and… well, it would be inaccurate to say that he'd screamed. That it might totally ruin his image as a cool and level-headed prankster (_nobody thought this_) was completely coincidental and not at all pertinent to the narration in his head. It would also be a lie to say that he squealed, since that too would be a reputation-ruining descriptor.

Here was the unvarnished truth: Clockblocker did not scream or squeal.

But his throat _did _emit a reedy, faint whistle that—if you mentally squinted really, really hard—could be considered a faint whine.

Eh, two out of three was not bad, all things considered.

The reason for his outburst stood eye to eye with him, especially since his legs had given out on him and the building was the only thing keeping him upright. It was also the only thing keeping him from fleeing in a blind panic.

Shelob had grown… significantly larger since he'd last been up close and personal with it. Back then, he'd managed to get the drop on the spider—which had been barely larger than his thumbnail— and freeze it long enough for building security to arrive. It had been a cute thing, with its relatively tiny legs, oversized eyes, and pale—nearly transparent—white colouring.

The Shelob of now still had the oversized eyes and a… _mostly _white carapace. Flecks of dark browns and blacks lined its joints, the most prominent markings outlining its forward-most eyes and then sweeping back past the cluster that was the other six. Its abdomen was much darker in colour, with what appeared to be a series of white plates curving over the upper half in several strips.

The additional armour made its normally round profile look… sharper, more angular. Its front pairs of legs were sharp-tipped compared to the rest of its limbs, with a keen edge running along the outer length and terminating in a short spike at its joint. much like a fantasy scythe's.

Its proportions were no longer those of a jumping spider's: with a relatively large head and tiny abdomen. Now the latter took up a significant portion of its size and it was raised at an angle so as not to drag against the ground. The overall effect made it appear as if Shelob was crouching, constantly ready to pounce.

He twitched, a full body shiver as his mind cast itself back to that day in the PRT building. A much tinier Shelob had made a mockery of building security with nothing more than yards of spider silk and swarms of tiny bodies jumping onto their clothing.

It didn't make him feel better to see Leviathan suffering a similar fate against a much larger—dare he say, evolved—version, even at a distance. In fact—the thought suddenly came to him with a healthy dose of horror—what if it recognised him as the one who'd put it in the plastic cup and angered it all that time ago?

Wait, no, he wasn't in his costume at the time, so it shouldn't have any reason to recognise him. Or did it? It _was _staring at him with an unnerving focus. It seemed to sense his fear.

Did it know?

Was he about to be eaten?

Did he ever tell his family that he loved them?

Well, actually, yes to the last part. Right before he'd headed out for the muster point.

He buried his head against his knees and squeezed his arms around his ears.

_Oh god, I'm gonna die. I'm not gonna get to fight an Endbringer. Armsmaster is gonna be upset with me._

Wait, were either of those last two things even bad?

Clock was knocked out of his musings with a sharp rap against his helmet. He flinched, then looked up warily as Shelob seemed to loom over him, one leg outstretched.

_What? What's it want from me?_

His non-response seemed to anger the giant spider, as it proceeded to thwap him repeatedly over the head. He raised his arms defensively even as began shouting involuntarily.

"Ahh! AH! Stop it! _Stop it!_ What do you even _want?!"_

Apparently nothing, since Shelob flinched at his outburst and withdrew from his personal space. It seemed to stare at its leg in confusion, tipping its body to one side as it turned the limb one way, then the other. Finally it turned to regard him, as if deciding _he_ was the problem instead of its wayward leg.

It even gave a sharp jerk of its body, bobbing its head as if nodding in support for that conclusion.

What the hell? Acting like he was the problem when it was the one upsetting his composure and making things all weird. He didn't have to deal with this, especially if it wasn't being murderously hostile. There was a battle going on. He had a _job _to do!

He glared at it, though the action was somewhat lost with the lack of face on his helmet. "I don't have time to deal with you, I've got an important task to do and you're keeping me from doing it!"

The black and white spider swiveled around on its axis, turning towards the ongoing melee. After a few moments, it turned back towards him and again tilted its body to one side.

"They're out there risking their lives for a chance to keep it busy and distracted. Once it is, I can go out there and I can use my power on him," Clockblocker explained. A trickle of unease coursed through him. Why was he even explaining himself to a _spider?_ "Do you know what my power is? You've been in Brockton for a while, so I bet you can imagine what might happen."

_Please be intelligent. Don't eat me. Please be intelligent, don't eat me._

Shelob stood up straight on its legs, popping its head high into the air for a brief moment. Then it lifted one leg and froze in place.

"Yeah, we freeze him. Then we have time to set up, to gather and reorganise, then we bring on the hurt."

Something fluttered through his vision and he pulled his head back. It was a strand of silk, the normally thin material extruded into something more the thickness of yarn. The thread was simply floating there, like some sort of weird snake. But when he traced along its path it looked like it ran all the way and connected with Shelob's backsi—

Spider. Right. Not awkward at all.

The thread slapped against the back of his hand and he stared at it in confusion before looking up. "What am I supposed to do with this?"

Shelob reeled the thread back in and then played out a greater length, balancing a coil in one claw. It raised its other limb and began twirling it, the end of the thread transcribing a wide circle as it spun through the air.

"What."

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

God, that took forever!

_[Maybe if you hadn't tried to cheer him up first and just gotten straight to business?]_

He was hiding! And shivering! It was a soul in need!

_[By the way, the new clones are ready.]_

Mini-mes.

_[They're not so mini…]_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

He should have been out there, fighting in the thick of things. It was expected of him.

Those who knew of him would not have been surprised to see him lose himself to the fight.

Those who knew him would not be surprised to see him biding his time.

A sign of insanity was doing the same thing over and over again with the expectation of different results. Once before, he had tried jumping in immediately and trusting his power to carry the day.

Once.

It did not achieve the results he had been looking for.

Why, then, would he attempt to repeat that error?

Instead, he watched. He observed. He scouted. He planned.

He raged.

He observed how the Leviathan acted. How it picked its goals. How it made its goal a reality. Destroy this building. Kill that person. Break containment. Kill more people. Distract with decoys and vanish, hiding away as it considered new variables. Kill the new variable.

He watched the heroes and lesser villains as they attempted strategies and tactics. Many stuck to what they knew, even though their understanding was flawed. Corral the beast, shoot it. Watch it escape and kill allies. Corner it once again, shoot it some more. Again and again.

With few exceptions, they attacked blindly, seeing the whole of the Endbringer as a viable target. Few cared to see the results of their efforts—probably for good reason, as the results were dismal and their efforts pitiful. But he watched with the eye of a warrior, one who truly knew combat. One who knew that the best way to fight was to do whatever it took to make the opponent stop fighting.

In most cases, fear was a suitable, cost-effective method that readily produced results. Few would engage with him just for who he was. In other cases, such as this one, he would have to put in more effort.

He had already concluded that the eyes were no weakness to the Endbringer. Countless times had he seen one person or another attack that common weakness of animals. But Leviathan was no mere animal, and losing one or even all of its eyes did not hinder it in the slightest.

Wounds that would be fatal to most beings were easily shrugged off as well. Leviathan had no heart, for all it appeared to bleed. It had no guts to spill, no muscles to sprain, and he had yet to see it break a bone.

From all of his observations, it appeared that Leviathan responded best to having its objective interfered with. It did not suffer impediments to whatever its grand designs were. If it was determined to kill a particular person, someone saving that individual would soon face its wrath. Should a building it was attempting to demolish be reinforced or even saved, it would take it out on the nearest defenders.

Should something _immobilise _it, wasting its precious time, it would shift objectives to seek and destroy.

He observed Leviathan's latest obstacle with interest. The spider that had webbed down and delayed the Endbringer for nearly a full minute had not only survived its killing blow, but had emerged stronger for it, given its new, larger form and the way it brought the fight to the Endbringer by leaping directly into the fray.

It had even duplicated the feat of ambushing the beast whilst it was distracted by the defending heroes. A thread had been subtly woven on the ground below its feet before the spider had jumped in and now the strands suddenly came alive, forming a large webbed dome around the Endbringer. The weave was loose enough that most normal-sized men could simply walk through, but for the towering Leviathan there was simply not enough space.

It would have simply smashed its way through the web, as it had done before, but here the spider's cunning showed itself. It had somehow earned the cooperation of the Ward that could freeze objects in time. The web had gone from a nuisance to a cage. Then from a cage to an _arena. _Many of the 'heroes' immediately fled through the openings left for them, leaving two monsters inside.

Even as the defenders renewed their tired strategy of bombardment from afar, the spider was suddenly inside the cage… and it appeared ready for a rematch.

He watched closely. He observed their battle. He scouted their abilities. He planned his own moves.

And he raged.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Who thought it was a good idea to lock ourselves into a confined area with a very angry Endbringer?

_[Yours.]_

I thought it was yours!

_[Nope. I'm not nearly that dumb. Definitely your idea.]_

Well it sounded like your idea in my head…

_[Incoming!]_

Whoops, Shields!

_Wham._

Hahah! Take that, you giant lizard! I can tank your hits now! I mean, this may look like an ordinary shield bubble, but it's brand-spanking new!

See this? _Slap._

This bad boy is the culmination of dozens of shielding techniques that I've cherry-picked and combined to produce the best effect! It'll stand up to anything you can possibly—

_Kchik._

AHH! I'm sorry! I got too overconfident! But that's okay! Because I have a new trick as well!

Claymore Counter!

_BOOOM._

How about that? You fell for my bluff, it's not a shield at all! In fact, it's a cleverly disguised fragmentation grenade! With… shieldy stuff being the fragments! I bet that stings, don't it?

Not dead? Well, of course not, it'd be too easy otherwise! Hahahah—_Swarm-in-Charge why isn't it dead?!_

_[ … ]_

Alright, trick number three! I know lasers didn't seem to work earlier, but I just need to test it. For thoroughness, you understand?

Fangs out! Options deployed! Hmm… what to use, what to use? Corrosive Bolts are so passé. How about we try… heat rays!

_[We're charging our lasers!]_

Nah, let's just… FIRE!

_FWOOSH._

Well, that did something to the water clone, at least. But he doesn't look all that singed.

_Swish._

Whoa! He's fast! Like, really fast! Even with Hyper Reflexes he almost caught me!

That's okay though, because I'm just the distraction! Bluffed again, you monster!

Are we ready?

「「「ʀᴇᴀᴅʏ!」」」

Are we set?

_[Opening portals to firing teams!]_

Leviathan stops and stares. I would too, if I were in his place. I mean, holes in reality just don't normally happen like that, especially when whole clusters of them appear above and around you. Doubly so when they lead to a parallel world, or a void like a… like a negaverse, or something.

_Triply_ so when the immediate areas just beyond both portals are filled with an army of clones—thousands upon thousands of mini-mes sitting on the equivalent of a large plain. Each of whom have just spent the last minute or so charging up attacks and aiming it for a relatively tiny portal.

「「「ʜᴇʟʟᴏ!」」」

Oh, did I mention both groups of portals were above Leviathan, angled towards the ground? It wouldn't do to have the groups in each other's firing arc.

Mirror Shield! It wouldn't do to cook myself in my own attack now, would it? I almost wish I had a set of sunglasses, Mr. Endbringer, cuz you're just going to have to deal with this.

Heat Ray, Mark Two! _SOLAR BEAAAAAM!_

_[FIRE!]_

..**_F_****_W_****_OO_****_OOO_****_OOOOOO_****_OO_****_OO_****_S_****_H_****_  
_**.**_F_****_W_****_OO_****_OOO_****_OOOOOO_****_OO_****_OO_****_S_****_H_****_  
_**_**F**_**_W_**_**OO**_**_OOO_****_OOOOOO_**_**OO**__**OO**__**S**__**H**_**_  
_**  
Let's see, Heat Rays are, well… hot. If the beam is charged before releasing it, then that temperature goes up significantly. Multiply that by a bajillion mini-me's who have been holding onto that energy and releasing it simultaneously? That's not counting the fact that space has been warped to refract the incoming fire like a lens and focus it into a coherent beam roughly the diameter of a cantaloupe.

The math checks out.

It's really freaking hot.

And you said burning the water wasn't an option!

_[In my defense, we didn't have this option when you first floated that idea.]_

Alright, let's see how we did! I bet that had to sting just a bit!

**_WHAM._**

_Kchik._

…was that the Mirror Shield?

_[Run away!]_

Plan C! Release the hounds!

_[Deploying the not-so-mini-mes! I mean, clones. I mean… nevermind. Deploying.]_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Outside the Shelob-dome, Alexandria observed the ongoing duel even as her companion continued to add his firepower to those sniping at the Endbringer from range.

She was not the only observer to notice when another portal opened to one side and a long, ebony-plated limb as thick as a tree-trunk slammed into the ground, followed by another.

Leviathan was still shedding water, although the ambient heat had risen sharply after Shelob's laser barrage and much of the water was evaporating as quickly as it was generated. Alexandria had no doubts that the Endbringer would recover in time, but for now it was limited to its own physical capabilities.

The Endbringer immediately turned towards the new threat and clawed at one of the intruding limbs, but even as it did so, five more snapped out of the hole and wrapped themselves around its form.

Leviathan began thrashing in the thing's hold, resisting its efforts to pull it back through the portal. It eventually got the upper hand by using its tail to slash through several legs and the Endbringer fell to the ground as it was suddenly released.

However the skirmish, short as it was, took enough time for a second portal to open and another set of legs emerged, this one pulling a massive figure completely through. The new player had barely emerged before it blurred forward and pounced upon the prone Endbringer.

It was a Shelob roughly the size of a bus, black instead of white. It was covered in a dense array of spikey, boney plating, giving the spider a somewhat feral appearance. Despite its size it was deceptively fast, using its legs to try and pin the Endbringer down as its fangs snapped at Leviathan's head.

Of the first spider, Alexandria could see its body beginning to dissolve, several pale legs bursting from the top of the thing's former head as a relatively tiny, white spider struggled to pull itself free before the portal closed, cutting off her view.

"So…" Legend called out, sounding shaken. "Were we drawing comparisons between Shelob and the Green Maiden, or to the Goblin King?"

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Okay, so, the freaky growy power thingy is a… fifty-percent success?

「ɪ'ᴍ ᴏᴋᴀʏ!」

Let's call it seventy-five. Test-Pilot Alpha isn't dead, after all.

Okay, Test-Pilot Bravo, if you could hold him still?

Spider Slice Mark Two! It's time for the coup de grâce!

Ooh, the edge is shinier… and a bit hard to see? It's kind of… blurry. Interesting. Shiney yet blurry? That feels like it should be a contradiction.

Alright, here we go!

Slicey slicey, stabby stabby!

_[Wave!]_

Say wut, now?

_AAARRHGHGHHBBLLRRRGHGLLEEEE_

What the? Where did all of this water come from?! I thought we got rid of that!

_[The cage isn't time-locked anymore! I think it pulled water all the way from the ocean to bring it down?]_

Hmm… nope, it doesn't taste that salty.

_[Then… isn't Brockton Bay built over an aquifer?]_

…Oh shi—

_WHAM._

「ɪ'ᴍ ɴᴏᴛ ᴏᴋᴀʏ!」

Test-Pilot Bravo! Nooooo!

That's it, more Solar Beams!

_[Portals openin—wave!]_

「「「_ᴀᴀᴀʜʜʜ!_」」」

How did it even _react _that fast?!

「「「_ᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀᴀʜʜʜ!_」」」

Um…

_[Our firing lines have been wiped out!]_

Ah… goodbye my sisters. You did your best and you failed miserably. The lesson here is:

**_MOAR SPIDERS!_**

_[Wave!]_

_**FWOOSH**_

Saved! By fire! My one not-weakness! Did some of the shooter group survive?! You guys get a promotion, whichever one of you did that!

_[Um… ]_

Errr… those aren't heat rays.

…Did Leviathan have a younger cousin? I mean, it's not as tall and it's… got fire all over its body instead of water and… it has wings?

Are we saved? Or doomed?

_"__At 'ong rast. I 'aff found 'oo."_

Endbringers can't talk, can they?

_[Uh oh…]_


	43. Spiderbringer 5

**Spiderbringer 5**

_"__At long last, I have found you!"_

It was here. _He_ was here.

He was _ready_. He had studied the White Spider's activities ever since it had first come to his attention.

Even in its relative infancy, it had already tried to make war against the ABB by ambushing his lieutenant whilst he was occupied with one of his few civilian hobbies. It had cleverly led him into a trap and attempted to use numbers against him. Though Lee had emerged personally victorious in that encounter, it had cost them one of their most secure safehouses. It was a humiliation he could not ignore, could not _allow_ to pass unanswered. Not by a relative newcomer.

In its next public encounter it had waited for the Empire's Runt and New Wave to engage each other before taking out the mundane gangbangers as well as the junior pair of heroes. It had found its opening and went for the weaker members first to quickly remove them from the picture. The moment it had found itself matched by the two stronger capes, however, it had quickly made its escape by using its own swarm as a distraction.

_"__There will be no escaping this time! You and I will do battle and only one shall walk away!"_

Much of the following encounters against the gangs in the city had followed along the same vein. The White Spider would lure in its opposition's forces by preying upon their lesser members, then turn the tables by throwing the battlefield into confusion. If its opponents were canny enough, _strong_ enough, to mount an effective resistance it would fade into the background whilst leaving behind disposable decoys in order to cover its tracks.

That strategy had led to the downfall of the Merchants. It had brought the Empire to its knees. He'd had no first-hand knowledge of confrontations with the Protectorate, but he would bet money that the spider had made use of and taken advantage of their PRT soldiers.

The pattern was clear; it never fought where it could not immediately obtain the upper hand. It was an ambush predator, oftentimes surprising its foes whilst they were otherwise focused on the more obvious opponents in front of them. If the odds turned against it, then it would flee with no concern for the outcome.

He had learned from the mistakes of his foes. His own members had been warned that their battles against the Spider were their own. He would not allow himself to be drawn into a battlefield of its choosing. He was strong, yes, but he was not so prideful that he would disrespect such an opponent and believe it had no way to deal with him, especially if it caught him off guard.

Instead, he tried to turn the tables upon it. He had done his research. He had sought out any clues to its habits even as he used Lee to scout its tactics whenever possible. He looked for any scrap of information he could collect in order to determine its motives or selection patterns. He was not… entirely proud to admit it, but he had also contracted interested third parties for what knowledge and expertise they could provide.

But his own traps had failed; the Spider having repeatedly refused to take the bait he had carefully laid out. Even the one procured—at great cost—after consulting with the Snake's own informant.

Perhaps the Spider had simply been too cautious—rightfully so. Or perhaps the informant had fed his men false information. If it was the latter, she would soon know his wrath.

When Leviathan had made landfall he had known this was to be his opportunity. If the Spider was anything like him, it would not be able to resist the siren call of a worthy battle. It would test its mettle against a creature that had never been laid low. It would prepare a battlefield where the enemy had every advantage and could shatter all preparations. Most importantly, it was a fight it could not easily run from, not without losing _everything._

_"__How does it feel, having your own tactics used against you?"_

And he would flip the script around. He would escalate himself as much as he could without actively participating in the battle, then _he _would be the one to catch the Spider off guard. _He _would be the one to assert his dominance over Brockton Bay. He would prove that he had nothing to fear from a mere insect, that he had merely held back out of practicality. He would demonstrate that _he _was the only one who could accomplish what all the other gangs and the Protectorate could not and bring the White Spider to its many knees.

And if Leviathan just so happened to fall between their combined might, so much the better.

He was ready for this fight. He anticipated it with his very being.

…and then the portals opened up and Lung realised he probably should have committed the last few minutes into his planning a bit more.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"▅▅▅▅▅▅!"

Uh-huh…

"▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅▅!"

You don't say!

"▅▅▅▅▅▅?"

_Really,_ now? Fascinating!

_[Can you really understand him?]_

Not a single thing. You?

_[Nope. It's all just 'rawrrrr' to me.]_

That's what I figured.

So uh… thoughts about tall, silver, and scaly?

_[…Make them fight each other?]_

Well, yeah. I mean, it's not like we could stop them. They're gonna stick around whether we want them to or not, it's just—

Oh, _oh!_ Yeah, we could just… tip-toe _this _way and then leave them to their—

Okay, I can totally see Lung's eyes tracking me. How about sneaking _thaaaat _way?

_[They're both staring. Both of them. With everybody else watching us. This is starting to feel embarrassing.]_

_Noooo _way?

_[Yes, no way. I don't think there's any way we're getting out of this.]_

Well, fuck.

Whelp, the test pilots proved themselves able, so lets roll out the production models!

_[Release the hounds: Inaugural Squadron!]_

_Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom. Boom._

A dozen portals rip open around us and from each one a vehicle-sized empowered not-so-mini-me slams into the ground.

Lung, meet the super-empowered minions which are apparently giant-biological-mecha-suit-thingies-with-spikes-of-DOOM_andnoIhavenoideahowthatworksbecausepowersarebullshit._ Leviathan, you've already been introduced.

Minions, meet the targets.

「「「ʜɪ!」」」

Now, we're trying to be real friendly here, so let's all kiss and make up.

In unison, each newcomer bares their fangs and step forward. Most of them light up with a bright neon-green glow, though a few holdouts are rimmed with an angry orange, cool blues, or shocking yellow light.

"▅▅▅▅▅▅!"

And Lung wastes no time in turning and decking the nearest… thing (_I really need to think of a name for them_) across the head. That is not how you respond to a lady making advances on you, Sir Dragon! You either let them down gently or just walk away!

Just as I'm about to tell The Squad to beat down this enemy of women, said enemy suddenly erupts in a steam explosion. At the same time, all of the rest of us are the targets of a deluge of water spontaneously forming in the sky and falling upon us.

_AAAAARGHHHHHGURGLEBLURGHLGLUBGLUB!_

Oh, right.

There was an Endbringer too, wasn't there?

Swam-in-Charge, weren't you saying you were going to dedicate a fork of yourself towards keeping an eye on our surroundings?

_[I plead the Fifth.]_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"Lung is on-site," Miss Militia barked into her communicator. "He's engaged both Shelob and Leviath—make that multiple large-scale Shelobs.

She watched through her scope as she awaited instructions, whether they be to continue to serve as overwatch or transition to firing support.

The new arrivals split into two groups and fling themselves at either opponent. Both groups had little effect at first, as Leviathan nimbly dodged their attempts at a spider-pile and bashed them into the nearby structures or uppercutted them into the sky. Lung simply ignored them in favour of charging straight towards the much smaller white figure in his path.

Several of the spiders fired off shotgun sprays of threads, much larger and more numerous than could be expected even from something their size, given that Miss Militia had been able to spot it from her vantage point. The flying nets flew through the air at speeds that seemed to ignore physics and they wrapped themselves around the charging dragon, the impact checking his momentum for a brief moment before he roared and burned them from his flesh.

One giant spider managed to regain its balance after having been body-checked and scuttled forward, interposing itself between Lung and Shelob in the blink of an eye. It dug its claws into the pavement and _heaved_, pulling up a wall of concrete and rock that arched over the pair just as a stream of fire immolated itself against the improvised barrier.

"Armsmaster, are you getting this?" she spoke into the pickup embedded into her jacket's collar.

_"__I see it,"_ came the voice of the Protectorate leader on the BB Protectorate's local channel. _"__Using the earth to construct a sloped roof. I don't think Shelob has displayed that sort of power before."_

"It's… a giant spider. _Really _gigantic spider. For all we know it could just be an extension of an existing brute power," Miss Militia observed.

_"__To promote clarity across our comm-protocols, I am designating the larger specimens as sub-category: Terra Architects—earth-builders,"_ Armsmaster pressed on, ignoring her. _"__Dragon, can you pass that suggestion on to the communications network?"_

_"__Stand by,"_ came the slightly distracted voice of the Tinker pulling the double-duty of managing a communication hub as well as piloting multiple assault craft. Miss Militia found herself wholly unsurprised to find she had tapped into their channel as well. Armsmaster did always seem to have a soft spot for the Guild's most famous cape.

_"__This isn't a game of scrabble, Boss,"_ Assault's voice came over the comm. _"__That's kind of a mouthful."_

_"__Terra-Tects then."_

_"__It's not pocket monsters, either!"_

Lung roared again as he leapt into the air and came down upon the temporary structure, weakening it into collapsing. It resisted just long enough for Shelob and the giant spi—for the terra-tect to skitter out of the way as the rest of the swarm closed in on him from behind.

Several of them pounced upon the ABB leader and he roared in pain or fury, more likely the latter, as he threw them off in turn. Flames burst from his wounds, searing them even as they healed closed, and Miss Militia belatedly noticed several of the terra-tects' fangs were dripping with a sickly green liquid. Another's attack against one wing resulted in the limb being partially coated in frost before a backhand struck it to the ground as well and she could see that one's fang glowing a bright blue.

"Orders regarding Lung?" Miss Militia pressed, absentmindedly adjusting the knob on her scope.

A low growl came over the channel, followed by Armsmaster's frustrated voice. _"__Personally, after what Shelob's swarm of Lesser Terra-tects just did to us, I'm inclined to let Lung give it payback on our behalf. That said, neither Legend nor Alexandria have said anything on the matter since they're still focused on Leviathan… and Lung is distracting a valuable asset from that greater threat. Get him turned around, or take him down."_

"Copy that," the sniper confirmed amidst a chorus of similar acknowledgements. She held her aim, but lifted her head briefly to check on the other fight, as the combat zone had definitely split into two, as Armsmaster had indicated. The distance, combined with the brevity of her glance, only revealed flashes of released energy and arcing water spouts several blocks down the street as the other group of terra-tects pressed upon the Endbringer, joined by the capes on the scene.

"Leviathan is currently engaged at BC-5," she said into the operational channel. "Velocity, I'm pretty sure you're around there somewhere. I see A mix of flying blasters and a few ground-bound brutes, along with half a dozen terra-tects."

_"__MM, Velocity. Confirmed. Legend and Purity, plus a handful of others. Alexandria is closer to the ground with Kaiser, Armsmaster, and that metal Ward from Boston. The terra-tects seem to be taking point and the rest are filling in."_ Velocity was running on full combat-adrenaline, it seemed. His speech was a tad faster than normal, not devoting as much mental power to slowing it down as he normally did when he was in the middle of doing his thing. Several of his words were blurring together as he spoke.

_"__We're just using probing attacks,"_ Armsmaster defended himself. _"__No sense in committing too hard when we don't know what they're fully capable of yet."_

"Copy that. Armsmaster, doesn't look like there are any surprises so feel free to command at your discretion. The Shelob-Lung battle is at BC-4 and increasing in distance, so there shouldn't be any immediate interference. I'll let you know if that changes. Right now Shelob is—"

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Spidermech 1 uses Ice Fang!

The newly labeled spidermech leaps forward and digs her fangs into one of Lung's wings. The limb freezes over and the additional weight unbalances the transformed gang leader enough to stumble to one side briefly.

He roars in wordless fury and flames flare up from his flesh, though Spidermech 1 stubbornly retains her hold on the limb and continues to chew. Her forelimbs come around and begin stabbing and slashing at his exposed back. The wing sheds water and steam, but new ice is reapplied as she continues attacking it at the joint where it meets the ABB leader's body.

It's… well I can't tell if it's actually effective or not. Props for literally hanging in there, though.

Swarm-in-Charge, did we get anything from him? That's like the twelfth time one of the Spidermechs has bitten him!

_[We got _something_, but I can't quite tell what it is whilst I'm busy trying to micromanage the Leviathan group. Are you feeling angry?]_

No more than usual?

_[Are you turning into a dragon?]_

I inspect my claws. Very sharp, very pointy. Still just a spider limb and not looking very lizard-like, however.

Nope?

_[Then I've got nothing, yet. It'll come to me sooner or later.]_

Well, if Lung wants a fight, he's going to get one. But it's gonna be on my terms!

BLINK! BLINK BLINK BLINK Blink blink blink blink blinkblinkblinkblinkblink ʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋ…

Mini-mes, assemble!

「「「ɢʀᴀᴘᴘʟɪɴɢ ᴛʜʀᴇᴀᴅs!」」」

Don't use anything he can just burn away!

「「「ʙʀᴀᴄᴇ!」」」

Each of the spider clones make use of an ability we've only practiced in sparring until now. By remaining attached to the line and feeding a sliver of a power into it, they give it a degree of invulnerability. The threads can still be knocked around, brushed aside, and whatnot. But for the duration that _Brace _lasts they can't be cut, set ablaze, or otherwise destroyed.

The downside is that the invulnerability period is fairly short, but for the purpose of an improvised web wall or temporarily tying down opponents like this, it's invaluable.

True to form, Lung immediately flares out with his fiery aura once more in a knee-jerk reaction of burning the hundreds of lines tying him down, but they resist for that crucial moment.

Parkour!

I immediately leap forward into his personal space, flicking out a shield orb and cannonballing into Lung's chest. The impact itself barely sets him reeling, but as I rebound away I compress the air behind me into a platform, landing and ricocheting right back towards him.

Aerial Manoeuvring!

The bounce sets me spinning and I stretch out my legs, each one sharpening and lengthening into scythes as I hit the dragon with all of the grace of a buzzsaw.

_Spider Slice!_

Blood sprays from the gash that opens up against Lung's chest but he sets his feet and _lunges _towards me, trying to capture me between his claws as I rebound once more. Another aerial platform does the double-duty of allowing me to jump away at a new vector and impedes his charge as he runs chest-long into it. The hapless mini-mes are pulled from their perches—invincible threads or not, they still suffer from a strength-mismatch and physics—and are dragged across the pavement as Lung continues chasing after me.

Then Spidermechs 2 through 6 catch up and all six ginormous beings finally succeed in spider-piling Lung, sending _him _sprawling across the street. His flames have long ago evaporated most of the water in the area, so the impact sends up a cloud of debris and dust. Which only increases in volume as the spidermechs situate themselves around him and begin stabbing their legs into the body underneath them. The debris cloud blocks out all sight lines of the interior, leaving nothing but flailing limbs and the occasional head visible as they are rocked by various impacts from within.

"▅▅▅▅▅▅!"

The ground literally shakes with the force of Lung's roar as a massive claw reaches out and _tears the face off_ from Spidermech 5. The rest of the body collapses in flames as the powers keeping it durable wink out and the mini-me piloting it is trapped inside as she's burned alive. The dragon seems to feed off the fresh source of heat and lets loose another challenging roar.

Uhhhh...?

The remainder of the half-squadron start to pop out shields, but the Lung's other hand and wings sweep the area around him. They weather the hit and move back in, when a _second _set of wings unfurl and knock them onto their surprised asses.

Uh oh.

Spidermechs! Your sacrifice will be remembered, keep distracting him!

Parkou—!

A blazing claw snatches my leg out of the air and slams me into the ground!

**_BLACK_****_._**

Hoo boy, he's not pulling his punches. I need to get out of here!

_SLAM SLAM SLAM SLAM._

**_BLACK_****_BLACK_****_BLACK_****_BLACK_**

I. Can't. See! LIKE! THIS! WHERE! CAN! I! BLINK! TO?!

The metaphorical warning light pops as I feel a pressure against my jaw. Visions of poor Spidermech 5 flash through my head as I feel an immense _tearing _from somewhere in my body—

**_BL—_**

/╲/\╭ˣx_xˣ╮/\╱\

Armsmaster ducked beneath the supersonic whip that was Leviathan's tail, then turned his duck into a roll to avoid the followup after-image. Rising smoothly to his feet, he watched the terra-tect to his side reel from the double impact, stumbling unsteadily on its five remaining legs as both strikes bit into the armoured chitin lining its body.

Two of its limbs were still embedded in Leviathan's arm, its own water skin not having managed to dislodge the scythes yet. It's final missing limb tumbled to the ground in front of Armsmaster, having been used to blunt most of the attack.

The Tinker feinted forward with an abbreviated thrust, then pulled back just as quickly as Leviathan spun towards him. Several capes on the Endbringer's far side used the opportunity to launch their own assault which drew its attention once more, allowing him to charge in for real.

His halberd sliced deeply into the wounds created by the terra-tects' attacks, gouging out his pound of flesh. Mid-swing, he toggled a small switch under his grip and a heavy dose of sedatives were released directly into what he prayed was Leviathan's bloodstream. He wasn't expecting them to actually have an effect, but even the chance of forcing the Endbringer to waste precious moments flushing the chemicals away or otherwise dealing with them would be a minor victory.

_"__Miss Militia to team,"_ the voice came over his secondary channel. _"__Shelob appears to be neutralised. Lung is heading your wa—what the fuck?"_

Armsmaster brought one hand up to where his earpiece would be, were it not covered by his helmet. "Repeat that? What's going on, Militia?"

His answer came in the form of an object flying through the air and striking Leviathan upside the head. The Endbringer whirled around just in time to catch several tons of flaming dragon, the two enormous figures hitting the ground and rolling for several dozen feet before they each came up swinging.

Several things happened at once, the remaining terra-tects froze and began disintegrating into ash. The object that had preceded Lung's attack rolled against his feet and he stared down into the nightmarish vision of Shelob's crushed cephalothorax, one leg still barely attached to its underside. Then he flinched backwards as it erupted into white light.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Owww… You know what? Let's just sit this fight out. It's Leviathan, he's gonna turn Brockton Bay into a small ocean at some point. It's probably safer if I just float around like this, not drawing any attention to myself.

_[We can't keep this up.]_

Yep! Just an innocent piece of seaweed~

_[I mean, we're running out of material to force molting. It's a lot more inefficient than letting it happen naturally so it ate up a lot of our reserves. Plus, I don't know how I know this, but something is telling me that our clone spamming capabilities are not infinite. It was easier to manage when you were itty-bitty, but at our current size it's not sustainable. We need more mass!]_

…Are you calling us fat?

_[No, it's the exact opposite! We're metaphorically starving!]_

What if we went back to cloning itty-bitty mes and held back just enough for more rezzes?

_[Then they'd have almost no combat ability. I can still make a few thousand more clones of our current form but we're completely tapped out after that. Even more spidermechs might be a stretch. We've burned through almost everything we've consumed since we were born. If we survive this, we're gonna need to eat. A lot.]_

No way! Why didn't you say something sooner?!

_[Because I didn't expect to _die _this much!]_

Okay, okay. So what I'm getting is… be a _bit _less cavalier about taking fatal damage. Make surviving a priority for any more clones, if any, and um… well, quality over quantity?

_[...Actually, yes. I'm somewhat surprised you were able to work your way through that.]_

Time to do _it!_

_[Oh geezus, we're fucking doomed.]_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_"__Shelob has reentered the fight,"_ Armsmaster reported.

Miss Militia brought her rifle around the few degrees she needed to reacquire her targets. "I've got a shot on Leviathan… but Lung's in the way."

_"__Take it. He can handle it. Assault, Battery, what's your status?"_

The sniper tuned out the reports from the rest of her team as her focus narrowed. Her position. The water in the air. The sun hidden behind the clouds. Leviathan's position.

Her. Leviathan.

HerLeviathan.

She squeezed the trigger, then flexed her power. Squeeze, flex. Squeeze, flex.

_Boom. Boom. Boom._

Two sprays of blood accompanied her shots, one crowning the top of Leviathan's head, the other skimming its back. The third didn't appear to hit anything at all, but the enraged roar from Lung told her it'd probably buried itself somewhere between his wing joints. Both monsters appeared to ignore her attacks.

_"__MM, Velocity. Three hits, confirmed. No effect."_

"Anti-materiel rounds appear to have no significant penetration," Miss Militia reported flatly. She eyeballed her scope once more and widened her eyes. "Uh…"

She saw Shelob stepping away from Armsmaster, the spider seeming to sway slightly as it took its first steps on regrown legs. Its abdomen seemed slightly thinner, more angular than before, although that might have just been the new angle she was viewing it from.

As Shelob took a second step, its height doubled. A third step and it doubled once again. Within seconds, a kaiju three-storeys tall was charging between panicked capes hurling themselves out of its way and it threw itself into the growing monster fight.

_"__Uhm…?"_ Assault's voice was a horrified whisper.

_"__Confirmation that Shelob has stolen Fenja or Menja's power,"_ Armsmaster noted clinically. _"__Either during this encounter or sometime earlier."_

_"__Does it really matter?"_ Battery all but shrieked.

_"__Armsmaster, sir,"_ Aegis' voice broke into the channel. It was barely recognisable, some sort of high-pitched static in the background giving his transmission fits. _"__Requesting orders."_

_"__Wards, withdraw to recovery zones or re-deploy on SRR operations,"_ the Protectorate leader ordered. _"__Do _not_engage this three-way. Let them fight."_

_"__Sir?"_

_"__Let them fight…"_

"Sir," Miss Militia squeezed her hand into a fist. "Permission to ready S-class level ordnance?"

There was silence on the comm channel for a few moments. Then a sigh. _"__I can't authorise that just yet. Keep it in reserve, or send a priority message to the Triumvirate."_

"Yes sir, standing by." Miss Militia temporarily muted her mic and reached for her armband.

As she did so, however, she was brought up short by an electronic click issuing from behind her.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," Bakuda rasped.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

AAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAH! This is amazing!

_[What is this I don't even.]_

We're the biggest gal on the block now! Who wants some!

"▅▅▅▅▅▅!"

A stream of fire hits one leg and barely cooks it. A whip of water shortly follows, which does carry more weight to the strike, but it still barely feels like anything.

You! _You _want some!

_[This shouldn't be possible. We have no internal skeleton, our legs shouldn't be able to handle this much height. There's a reason why Eight-Legged Freaks is a stupid C-list monster movie…]_

Square-cube law has always been my _bitch_. Get with the times, Swarm-in-Charge!

Spider _STAB!_

A stomp with a scythe the size of… well, something _really big_ is enough to leave a crater in the ground, but unfortunately there is no Lung, nor Leviathan hanging off of the end. The formerly towering Endbringer is now barely taller than my eye-level, with Lung slightly smaller but growing by the minute. Adding in my… high storage-capacity abdomen, however, I should greatly out-mass both opponents.

This means when I _move_, I'm probably going to get right-of-way.

A swing of one leg sweeps Lung to the side where he crashes through the ground floor of some office building. Within the same motion I bring up my scythes to slam them down upon Leviathan. With a serpentine grace, it avoids the strike and slashes at my legs, which withstand both the direct impact and the followup water clone even without shields.

This is great! I didn't realise I'd get a sort of dampening effect when I grew this big! How do the wonder twins even get hurt if it's like this?

I suddenly feel a burn and note a spinning ring of water wrapped around one of my legs, worrying at it like a high-speed band saw.

Oh, like that. AHHH! _GET IT OFF GET IT OFF!_

Another kick sends Leviathan sprawling across the ground, where it's suddenly the target for a massive energetic barrage from above.

Oh look, the cavalry has arrived.

Capes line the buildings to either side of the avenue and fill the skies with para-projectiles. Energy beams, projectiles, explosives, and other things rain down upon the prone Endbringer, but it simply sits up through the attack and glares at me.

I charge, slamming my scythes into the ground and walking them forward. Leviathan finally slithers away to gain some distance. Just as it gets its stance stabilised, however, a bright sphere of light appears against its chest and abruptly expands outwards to engulf the Endbringer from within.

Steam erupts with a shriek as the nearby water evaporates. The concrete begins to melt and even nearby signage erupt into flames. It's as if the light is the very sun itself come to earth, with all of the destruction implied by such a thing.

I know that attack. I've been the _target _of that attack.

Where? Where is it coming from?!

_[Second roof to our right. Red and black!]_

I focus a pair of eyes towards the indicated direction and spot a figure in a black bodysuit with their hand held out towards Leviathan. The dark fabric is broken up with a pattern of bright red circles, stylised suns.

I'm gonna remember that face.

_[Mask.]_

I'm gonna remember that mask…

_[Leviathan.]_

What? It's kinda cooking right now. You want me to _touch_ that? Are you crazy? It's—

It's _walking _out of the sun. What the hell?

Steam rises as the sun shifts to move after it, though the speed of its movement is that of a snail's. Leviathan out-distances it quickly, then completely leaves it behind as it breaks into a sprint. Its body is hunched over, arms pumping wildly as it stretches its claws out towards me.

Does _nothing _permanently hurt this thing?!

A black streak blurs through the air and the Endbringer stumbles to one side, suddenly unsteady on its feet. There was no sign of the projectile that had hit it. Instead there is simply a neat hole on either side of Leviathan's torso, to match an equally neat hole in the street. It stands out from the rest of the destruction by how _clean _the break is.

Leviathan regains its balance and resumes charging, but the bulk of my attention is focused squarely on the hole in its side.

The Endbringer had been wounded before, many times in this fight alone. Blood had been spilled. Flesh had been gouged. Hell, I'd even ripped out one of its eyes _(which was back, by the way; talk about stupid levels of regeneration)._

_[Erm…]_

But it had mostly shrugged all of its injuries off. They almost seemed inconsequential, for how much attention it paid to its wounds. This one, however, though it treated it the same as every other wound. This one seemed… _off _somehow.

There's a power inside of me, nagging at me. It's the power that lets me pinch space and squeeze it like putty. It's the one that let me control tears through reality. This power is telling me that the hole is much tinier than it appears. It looks barely inches wide in diameter visually, but it seems like nanometres to my senses.

_[Oh! Hang on! I've got it!]_

My perspective abruptly flips and I would gasp if I could. The hole isn't tiny, it's just that Leviathan is _massive_. To my eyes, it's thirty feet tall and weighs about as much as something his size should. To my power, however, it's bigger than all of Brockton Bay with a mass to match _that_. The Endbringer is just… compressed. It's folded in on itself. Every wound, every drop of blood, every pound of flesh is barely scraping off a layer of dust compared to its true size.

The key is in that one bolt that struck it earlier. Leviathan being folded upon itself helps when the assembled capes can only strike at one layer at a time. But that one attack, like a sewing needle piercing a folded bolt of fabric, was able to hit its _everything_.

Do I have something that can do that?

_[Searching…]_

Time to find ou—

"▅▅▅▅▅▅!"

Oh for crying out loud!


	44. Spiderbringer 6

**Spiderbringer 6**

Come at me, bro!

_[Blink!]_

…aaand now I'm small again. Well, relatively, anyhow. That's actually rather disappointing, to be honest. Hey, Swarm-in-Charge! What gives?!

_[We didn't come here to fight Lung!]_

Meh, I coulda taken him…

_[Not the point. Regardless, Big-Us is a really, really good distraction. I hope you haven't forgotten the itty bitty problem of an _Endbringer _in our city? We needed a change of pace and I think I know what to do.]_

Can you at least instruct Old-Giant-Me not to go down like a pansy? I'd really rather Lung didn't tear her face off… again. He's far too good at that.

_[No promises, but we need to move. I'll explain it on the way. Blinkblinkblinkblink…!]_

I.m. .l.i.s.t.e.n.i.n.g…

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Even as a giant dragon man tackled a giant spider out of Leviathan's path, the defenders interposed themselves and resumed their attack on the Endbringer. It swatted several capes that were in its way, but the sheer volume of fire plus several creative tactics employed by the defenders forced the Endbringer to divert from its path. Walls of blades, forcefields, and lengthening the relative space between the two sets of giants served as a sufficient deterrent that Leviathan immediately spun around and launched itself back towards the gnats nipping at its heels.

Miss Militia's head was facing the window, but she barely noticed the change in the battlefield. Instead her attention was focused squarely on the woman behind her. Her rifle remained propped against the sill in front of her but she made no moves to fire it or even adjust the scope.

Standing deeper into the room she'd set up as a sniper's nest, Bakuda thumbed a remote agitatedly. A small LED was alternating between green and red as she thumbed the arming switch back and forth.

_Flick. Flick. Flick._

One of Miss Militia's hands was resting against the trigger guard of her rifle, the other folded across her chest as she leaned against the table she was sitting at. She quietly shifted it slightly, bringing her fingers towards her other hand's wrist.

_Flick_. Red light.

"I told you not to attempt to communicate with anyone outside," Bakuda repeated.

The electronic monotone let her know the villain had replaced her mask, which meant she was no longer concerned with observing the outside situation. "The boss _really _wants this fight, and he had explicit instructions on how he wanted to ensure that he got it."

Miss Militia remained still, though the brightness of her rifle faded ever so slightly; it became slightly transparent as several motes of light began to orbit her free hand. "You don't want to do this either," she replied, keeping her voice even. "Lung's actions might… _might _be excused by the circumstances. Whatever Shelob just did to all the capes down there, fog of war in the chaos of battle, maybe even thinking it was another nascent Endbringer—those could be possible justifications for him attacking a battlefield asset. But, the two of us? We're far enough removed from the situation that you preventing me from carrying out my duties would definitely be construed as a truce violation. It'd be the Birdcage for you, or worse."

"Hah. You think _I _want to do this?" the bomber snarled. "If he thinks I tried to sidestep his orders he'll have my guts for garters. I'll be as good as dead if you don't stand down and let me… _discourage _others from interfering with that battle."

A chill ran through the hero's veins. "What did you do?" she said in a low voice. Quietly. Warningly.

If Bakuda heard the threat in her tone, she didn't respond to it except by fiddling with the detonator in her hand once more.

_Flick. Flick. Flick. Flick…_

"Nothing. Yet. And you don't want to find out, either."

Her earbud crackled. _"Militia, status report. I can _hear _Shelob and Lung going at it, so I know there must be _some _info to pass along."_

_Flick._

Her microphone for the Brockton channel had been muted in favour of switching to the armband communicator, so she had no way of warning Armsmaster of this latest betrayal. Not without risking her life—or worse, the entire city's population..

So Miss Militia kept quiet. And she quietly pulled as much of her power as she could from her rifle, leaving just enough to keep it visible, as she carefully began structuring a hold-out weapon whilst suppressing as much of its tell-tale glow as she did so.

She'd pray that somebody would grow suspicious and check up on her, but she'd never cared to settle for the role of damsel in distress.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Okay so, you said that mini-mes weren't useful as a combat asset anymore with our relatively limited numbers?

_[Yeah, but that doesn't keep them from helping out in indirect ways.]_

Such as why you've instructed the last few hundred to spread out and… take deep breaths?

_[One, scouting. Everything they see, I know… eventually, at least. Still working on that. Two, have you ever seen a compressed air tank explode?]_

Not personally, but I remember Dad sometimes would tell stories about—

[Yeah, that. Exactly. So do you remember what he said would happen if the safety valve catastrophically failed?]

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Lung roared his fury to all who would hear it as he pressed down upon Shelob. Though the White Spider had attempted to match his size and had even temporarily surpassed it, that did not change the fact that it was a mere insect before his might.

It was more durable, as evidenced by the way it met his strikes with its limbs. It was certainly capable of becoming a threat, as those same claws ripped and tore into his flesh the same way his own talons scarred and scoured its chitinous plating. But though his wounds were rapidly healed in bursts of fire, Shelob had no such regenerative ability and its armour would soon fall, no matter how thick it was.

With his strength, he grabbed ahold of Shelob's front pair of limbs and pried them apart, exposing the core of its body to his gaze. He spat fire at the beast, though it responded by opening its own jaws and a bright blue beam annihilated his attack with an explosion of steam as the byproduct.

With another roar, he pulled himself forward, ready to use his expanded jaw to tear into its flesh, when something about its posture suddenly set off warning bells in the back of his mind.

Releasing the spider's limbs, he allowed his legs to collapse and his pounce quickly became a dive into the ground. Just in time, as the spider's middle pair of legs stabbed at the air along his previous path of attack. _Something _ripped through the sky above him and he felt a maelstrom of wind against his back…

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_[Tch. You missed!]_

「ʜᴇ _ᴅᴜᴄᴋᴇᴅ!_」

Uh… There used to be a park there, didn't there? I'm pretty sure there was also a building or two? Or Five?

…wow that reached all the way out to the bay.

_[Um… maybe a bit less compressed air in the future?]_

「ʜᴇᴀʀ ᴍᴇ _ʀᴏᴀʀ!_」

…It's not easy to gather that much air, you know.

「ᴀᴡᴡᴡ…」

Well, erm… Swarm-in-Charge, do we need Bullshit Blackholes for anything else in the near future?

_[Nothing I can think of for the near future?]_

「ɢʟᴇᴇ!」

_[Anyhow, the rest of you keep an eye on the Endbringer. Note anything that seems off to you.]_

「「「ʀᴏɢᴇʀ!」」」

「ɪ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ! ɪ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ!」

Eh? What?

_[Hang on, let me poll the minions… There's apparently a civilian wandering down the street towards the fight!]_

What? Who's stupid enough to do something like that?!

_[It's some lady dressed like a house-wife or something. Maybe she's lost? Looking for her family?]_

Well, get her turned around!

「sʜᴇ ᴊᴜsᴛ ᴡᴀʟᴋᴇᴅ ʀɪɢʜᴛ ᴘᴀsᴛ ᴍᴇ! sʜᴇ's ɪɢɴᴏʀɪɴɢ ᴍᴇ!」

Wow, she must be shell-shocked or something. Nothing we can do about that for now, just keep an eye on her and make sure she doesn't do anything stupid. Swarm-in-Charge, look out for any more civilians randomly out and about?

_[Will do.]_

「ɪ ᴀʟsᴏ ғᴏᴜɴᴅ sᴏᴍᴇᴛʜɪɴɢ!」

_More _civilians?!

「ɴᴏ, ɪ ᴡᴀs ᴡᴀᴛᴄʜɪɴɢ ʟᴇᴠɪ. ɪᴛ's ᴀ… ɪᴛ's ᴀ ᴛʜɪɴɢʏ!」

…okay?

_[Hang on… Uh… I don't know how to explain it either. Dimensional shenanigans. Think Wizard plus Labyrinth plus Vista plus some random other… y'know what, here.]_

What do you mean, 'here'? _OWwhatthefuckisthismyhead._

Wait.

_Wait wait wait._

I see what you mean. Can we actually do something like this?

_[Yeah, recall that one of the capes here has this thingy that has a relatively giant dimensional footprint. It'll take some work, but we can copy this. At the very least it means we hit 'more' of the Endbringer with each attack.]_

Do it!

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"You know, you don't _have _to do what he tells you to if it's not in your best interest."

"Staying in one piece and at normal human body temperature _is _in my best interest, thank you very much."

"Just say I beat you up," Miss Militia offered. "He can't blame you for trying and failing, can he?"

"Failure is failure to him," Bakuda replied.

They both watched as the giant Shelob's scythes took on a sudden… _quality _that was hard to describe. Faint afterimages appeared as it moved, even when it wasn't swinging with any particularly noticeable speed, and the spider seemed to take great care not to use those particular limbs for locomotion as it stalked forward.

Lung, of course, met the challenge head-on as he splayed his arms wide, then swung them forward as he lunged.

There was a sudden blur as Shelob skittered forward—for anyone closer to the fight it might have seemed to teleport—and it was suddenly past Lung and rushing for Leviathan, scythes raised high into the air.

Behind it, Lung stumbled as his arms separated from his body and he fell to one knee against the ground. His wings and tail flailed wildly as he shrieked in rage towards the sky, the fires around him burning all the more brightly.

"Don't go back to him when this is over, then. Come with us." Miss Militia allowed the barest outline of the rifle remain visible from behind her, the rest of her power had coalesced into a rather powerful sidearm in her other hand. She nodded her towards the distant battle. "Lung's not invincible. He can be beaten."

_Flick. Flick. Flick._

Shelob cannonballed into Leviathan, knocking the Endbringer down with its charge and began swinging its limbs with wild abandon. Rents and tears appeared in the Endbringer's flesh and a dark, ichor-like fluid began splashing to the ground.

All but ignored by defenders, attackers, and undetermineds, Lung rose to his feet in the spider's wake. One arm was already regrown or reattached and he used it to slap his remaining missing limb against its stump. An aura of fire flared which melted the buildings beside him and then he began stalking towards the foe that had so carelessly tossed him aside, both arms swinging easily.

A harsh, electronic laugh erupted from the Tinker, the flat tone making it sound almost pained. "The spider can't stop him. _You _definitely can't stop him. There's no protection from his wrath except compliance."

"You can still run," Miss Militia tried. The pistol quietly finished forming and settled into her free hand's grip. She slowly flicked the safety.

A crackle of static that might have been a sigh. "He won't let me."

_Flick. Fli—_

Miss Militia twisted in her seat and fired at her target, her experience and skill allowing her to shoot the remote out of Bakuda's hand. The small device flew through the air and struck the far wall, the LED safely winking with a green light.

Bakuda recoiled from the sudden impact and toppled to the ground as Miss Militia stood from her chair, training her weapon on the prone Tinker. "Hands where I can see them," Miss Militia ordered. "I'm going to restrain you, you're going to sit quietly, and when this is over I'll speak with the Triumvirate personally and try to get you some sort of protection from Lung."

Bakuda groaned and let her head fall to the ground, spreading her arms wide. "There is no protection from someone like him," she grumbled. The fight left her body as she stared at the ceiling, one leg crossing in the air above the other and settling onto one upraised knee as it began to bounce in a relaxed manner.

"His reach extends further than any of you know. Distance is immaterial to someone like him. There's no escape… except for time. He can't possibly live forever.

"…and it just so happens that I've got just the thing for that." Her booted foot bounced in the air once more before it swung free and stomped at the ground.

Miss Militia immediately spun around and scrambled across the desk for the still-open window. As she braced her foot against its surface, however, she noticed Bakuda's duffel bag sitting against the legs of the chair she'd been sitting on as a series of beeps sounded from somewhere within.

"For what it's worth, it was really nice of you to listen to my earlier ramblings."

_When did she place tha—_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Giant-Me swings and stabs at Leviathan with both scythes, piercing its prone form and carving out pieces of its flesh as whatever passes for Endbringer blood sprays everywhere. The Endbringer seems almost stunned at the viciousness of the attack, not even trying to rise to its feet in favour of trying to pay it back with its own claws, tail, and directed streams of water.

Giant-Me's innate damage resistance combined with shields, both projected and compressed space variants, means that she suffers little damage, though the same cannot be said for the capes in the surrounding area.

Several tough-looking figures find out they aren't so tough after all as wild streams of water slice through their own protections. The _really _tough ones manage to limp back out of range. The rest don't leave at all. Many of the other capes have already retreated to a greater distance and are watching from the safety of buildings several blocks away.

The civilian woman that mini-me had spotted is, unfortunately, also dead. A quick update from her chaperones tells me that she'd wandered obliviously into one of Leviathan's big water-slashy attacks. The strikes had come too quickly for her escort to respond and protect her from it.

Nothing I can do about it. They'd even told me she had some warning when she walked into a fogbank generated by the Endbringer and still continued unconcernedly towards the fight. They did their best to keep their eyes on their charge and did everything they could protect her, I can't blame them for trying.

Maybe she had a deathwish? Can't stop people wanting to commit suicide by Endbringer, I suppose. Regardless, Swarm-in-Charge immediately delegates a detachment of mini-mes to form a perimeter tasked with turning away any more noncombatants. Forcefully, if they have to.

_Grappling Threads!_

Myself and the remnants of the mini-me army do our best to tie Leviathan down with _Braced _threads, then we get to work whilst Giant-Me continues drawing the focus of the Endbringer's attention.

It was Swarm-in-Charge who had pointed it out, mostly by devoting precious Time Out time to a puzzle that apparently had _offended _her. It turns out that I have an ability that shunts a bunch of my mass into another dimension as well. That allows me—well, _all_ of us—to walk around ignoring gravity just enough to avoid being crushed under our own weight. An exoskeleton, even one as strong as mine has become, is not designed to physically support something our size.

In other words, as I reminded her, the square-cube law is my _bitch._

Swarm-in-Charge had taken the discovery of Leviathan's own mass folded in and shunted into different dimensions as a good parallel and tried to find a workaround using ourselves as a test-platform. We had Myrddin's bullshit blackholes that sucked things into a pocket dimension. We had Labyrinth's headpat-space. We had Vista's ability to fold and warp our own dimension as an example and set about mixing these plus any other power that dealt with space together, trying to create something that could hit Leviathan's _everything_.

Then, during her categorising, Swarm-in-Charge _also _found that a cape present in the battle already had something like that readily available. And we had actually successfully nommed it. Now she just needed to find a way to apply it.

I don't know exactly what she was thinking at the time, but the mental scream of frustration she made was kinda funny.

So, at first she wanted to call it the 'stinger' element, but that was immediately vetoed. I mean, she says that I'm bad at naming things, but even _I _know that spiders don't have stingers. It just doesn't make sense.

On the other hand, _Vorpal Blades_ really do go snicker-snack!

「ᴇʜᴇʜᴇʜ… ᴀʜᴀʜᴀʜ. ᴀʜAᴀʜHᴀᴀʜHʜᴀʜᴀᴀᴀʜHHᴀᴀᴀʜA_HᴀʜᴀᴀʜᴀʜAA!_」

O… kay, then…

Moving on!

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_Miss Militia deceased, AA-1. Bakuda deceased, AA-1._

Armsmaster was too in control of himself to spin around in shock. Or, more accurately, too far into the throes of the attack pattern his combat suit had laid out for him as he fought for his life whilst stuck in between the two kaiju-sized monsters infesting his city.

Leviathan had finally succeeded in throwing Shelob away from itself and the area between the two was a maelstrom of sharp claws, supersonic whips, ribbons of water, and other things that made mundane objects get sliced to bits.

Brutes with a degree of invulnerability to such things happily waded in. One cape with silvery skin was ignoring everything thrown at him in favor of getting his own stabbing in, having transformed his arms into blades himself. One of Shelob's wild swings severed the tips of one of his blades, but the cape simply re-honed the edge and pressed on.

Armsmaster was one of the few capable of surviving simply by dodging, which he took great care to do so. He had no attention to spare for anything else, so he simply barked into his transceiver, "Velocity!"

His team member, fortunately, knew him well enough to know what he was asking. _"The building that was her last recorded position seems intact, but that's all I can tell from here," _the high-strung speedster replied._ "If you want, I can look into it?"_

"No," the Protectorate leader growled. "We'll find out what happened after the battle."

He suited action to words as he pulled his spare halberd from its rack and prompted his armour to transition his movements into a dual-wielding form as he silenced his output and unloaded everything he had at Leviathan, screaming silently beneath his helmet.

"▅▅▅▅▅▅!"

A gutteral roar and a wash of flames heralded Lung's re-entry into the fight and Armsmaster was forced to withdraw out of range and re-assess. As he landed from a power-armoured assisted leap, he triggered a switch on his halberd and a smoking battery fell from the head of the blade attachment. He dug into a panel at his hip and pulled out a replacement, slamming it home with more force than he'd probably needed.

His virtual intelligence chimed to grab his attention. He'd had hundreds of fights against Lung alone, dozens against Leviathan, and even if Shelob was relatively new, he'd already pulled terabytes of data on her habits… even if those habits seemed to shift between two or three separate patterns at any given moment. A three-way between Lung, Shelob, and Leviathan just meant there was one more variable to deal with.

Easy.

He reset his stance, loaded up the combat aid, and charged back in himself.

And that was when the bombs began raining down from above.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_[Oni Lee!]_

Lung roars as he simultaneously rips his claws into the wounds Giant-Me had opened in Leviathan's flesh and vomits a white-blue beam of fire at her face. Even as the clone reels back from the flames, she snaps out her legs to sweep Lung off of his feet and giant threads of her own spool through the air to wrap around both of her opponents.

Leviathan slashes through these with whip and claw, albeit not _quite _as fast as it previously had. Lung is momentarily stymied as he attempts to burn the threads off and is unsuccessful, but then an explosion goes off in Giant-Me's face, the results leaving some sort of crystal growth on that side and blinding two of her eyes.

More explosions erupt around the perimeter of the fight, keeping the rest of the defenders at bay or trapping those closer by inside. Walls of crystal sprout from the impact sites, fires that burned sideways, or more mundane payloads that simply blasted everything around them for dozens of metres.

Most of the capes nearby are forced to withdraw, leaving the three giants trapped within this new cage of destruction.

Well, three giants, if you're not counting a few really overconfident defenders, one _(or twenty, depending on when one does their counting)_ suicide-bomber ninjas, and one _(or just under one-thousand, depending on if you view clones as individuals or mere copies)_ not-quite-so-giant white spiders.

「ᴛʜɪs ɪsɴ'ᴛ ғᴜɴ ᴀɴʏᴍᴏʀᴇ!」

Agreed! Swarm-in-Charge, did you figure it out yet?!

_[I can't manage to apply it to our bolts, but I had some minions carving out a rock quarry they found in headpat-space and we've prepared as much ammunition as we can!]_

Do it! Do it now!

_[Special delivery!]_

Portals open up high in the air and a cluster of stone spears begin raining down upon the battlefield. The spears shift and blur as they fall, leaving faint after-images in their wake, and when they impact the ground they do not shatter, instead continuing deep into the earth leaving fairly clean holes as the only sign of their passage.

Those were the near-misses.

_Grappling Threads!_

At my order, myself and the mini-mes do our best to ensnare Leviathan and tie him down. Several more explosions in Leviathan's face seem to aid us, but others hinder our efforts as they slice through the threads.

But that's okay, because we have backups. Lots and lots of backups…

Lung is left relatively unimpeded, as firebombs explode around him and keep his immediate area clear. That leaves him free to nimbly dodge around the falling missiles and continue to press his assault.

Leviathan, tied down as it is, falls to pieces.

Large rents slash down its body as the spears fall through it. Its tail is severed halfway along its length, then shortened again by the follow ups. One arm is taken off at the shoulder and its torso begins to resemble a block of swiss cheese.

Despite that, the Endbringer stands its ground, struggling in the grip of the threads holding it down. Its eyes glow balefully in shadows of spears numerous enough to blot out the sun as more and more are shoved through the portals and towards the ground.

_[It's working! We're doing it! We're _killing _an Endbringer!]_

Alright! Giant-Me! The coup de grâce!

「ʀᴏɢᴇ—_ᴇʀ…_」

Giant-Me stutters, then suddenly falls to the ground as her limbs lock up and curl inwards.

What?

The joints of the giant clone abruptly crack and steam begins rising into the air as her body succumbs to a centre of gravity that is suddenly too high and begins rolling to one side.

What what what?

Oni Lee suddenly appears on the ground before Lung in a crouch. He half rises, one hand pressed to his face, the other reaching for his leader. A red mist is rising from his body and then he also collapses to the ground.

Small pops sound across the battlefield and I see several nearby mini-mes all but explode as something in their bodies hisses and pops, causing them to all do their best boiling lobster impressions.

_[There's no bodies left! We're being annihilated! What the fuck is going on?!]_

Entire clusters of capes several buildings away, also collapse as several of their fellows scream and try to drag them off to safety.

A figure in an armoured blue suit stumbles, dropping two large staves from suddenly limp fingers. The back of the suit cracks open and a disheveled, bearded man falls out and keels over. A flying box bristling with cannons and hardpoints rockets to the ground, sprouts arms, picks up the man, and flies off in the span of several seconds.

Lung is half bent over, but he quickly straightens and screams in rage. He marches over towards Giant-Me's corpse and uses one claw to sever the weakened joints of her front legs. Brandishing the ends of both limbs in each hand, he roars again and charged towards Leviathan.

Throughout it all, Leviathan stands still in the midst of suddenly loose threads, all four eyes simply glaring… at…

Me…

Uh oh.

_[Blink!]_

_BlackBlac_

—POP

Without warning, my body feels like it's on fire and I have a moment to realise that my _blood _is literally boiling before I'm yoinked away into a new body. My deferred damage has barely given me even a moment's grace from this instant-kill move.

_[BLINK! Get your head back in the game!]_

_Pop!_

Another clone explodes.

_BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK! BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!BLINK!BLINK! Blinkblinkblinkblinkblinkblinkblink ʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋʙʟɪɴᴋ…_

_Pop pop pop poppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppoppop…_

A staccato rhythm of destroyed mes trail me as I struggle to avoid being the target of Leviathan's murderous focus. This is stupid! Where the fuck did it get this ability? And if it's had it all this time why hasn't it been using it?!

This shitty boss is _cheating!_

_[We've got to get out of his range!]_

Leviathan finally moves, a casual wave of its remaining limb suddenly making the air feel like an arid wasteland as a tidal wave of water spawns from nowhere and washes Lung aside. The Endbringer coils around one leg and still somehow _leaps _after me.

We're not getting out of his range! How is he that fast with one leg and one arm?!

What is this _bullshit?!_

_Blink! Pop!_

Slide into headpat-space!

_[I'm trying! I created a clone in there but it died before it could make the transition! Whatever it's doing, it's too fast for us to make it!]_

We didn't survive Dire Rats and heavy boots to die to an overgrown _fish!_ I need options!

_[Blink without blinking!]_

What?

_Blink! Pop!_

_[When we make a clone there's a process where we transfer our consciousness to the new body and a mini-me is formed to take over the old one! I remember leaving at least one old-me outside of Leviathan's range! We just need to trace that connections!]_

That's easy for you to say! You've been doing that this whole time! Connections this, connections that! _What does that even mean?!_

_Blink! Pop!_

_[We're… we're running out of energy. We're not going to survive if we keep just running in circles. I can find the link. I pray you can, too. Good luck, Main Body-in-Charge]_

_Owmyhead._

Swarm-in-Charge, don't you dare leave me alone with this bastard!

…

_Swarm-in-Charge?!_

…Fuuuuuuuuck.

Shit, she told me _how_ to find a link but she didn't tell me _what_ the link she'd found was!

Okay, okay… I can do this, _I can do this!_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_Heavy casualties. Please stand by._

Legend stared down in horror at the massacre happening below.

This Endbringer fight had just gone from being the one with the absolute lowest casualties in recent memory to being one with numbers that rivaled Behemoth's first appearance. There was no accounting of the victims of Leviathan's sudden escalation, but there was no mistaking the fact that another Endbringer had just manifested a kill-field similar to it's fellow, judging by the flood of announcements that filled the armband channels.

Despite lacking over half of its limbs, the Endbringer seemed to have lost none of its speed as it ran down a faint white speck across the city.

_Heavy casualties. Please stand by._

"Was this part of your plan?" he whispered.

Alexandria was already diving towards the fight below.

Then the two white shapes merged as Leviathan caught up to Shelob and there was one last, final-sounding _pop_.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

.

.

.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

It was a nightmare.

Panacea slowly walked down the rows of bodies laid out on the warehouse floor. She did her best not to look down, even though piles of blankets and sheets had been scrounged up to preserve the anonymity of the heroes that had, 'died in the defense of the city against insurmountable odds.'

That was the line the Protectorate was already spinning. An unforeseen circumstance, an Endbringer forced to the brink of its own destruction and its final _fuck you_ to the defenders before it was driven off without Scion's aid. It helped that earlier, to drive home the serious threat to everyone's life, Legend had spouted an average statistic of a one-in-four chance of dying in any Endbringer fight. Nobody could say they hadn't known the risks going in. Hundreds had volunteered to fight regardless. For that choice, most of them were heroes.

Most of them.

Panacea had been in the back lines, triaging any wounded that had been brought before her attention. Along with Othala of the Empire, Scapegoat of the San Diego Wards, and an army of professional doctors and nurses, they had done their best to prevent the casualties from mounting.

News had trickled in from the front slowly. From the scattered reports and announcements that came across their armbands. From the various runners, capes and other volunteers who'd made daring excursions to recover the wounded and only saw the periphery of the fighting. From the wounded themselves who had been recovered and did their best to give impressions of the chaos that had gone down before they had been taken out.

Leviathan had made landfall and began indiscriminate slaughter of the defending capes. Capes that had underestimated the danger. Capes that had overestimated their durability. Capes who had simply gotten unlucky. A multitude of confusing and sometimes conflicting anecdotes.

A second Endbringer had crawled out from wherever it had been hiding and began attacking everything in sight.

A miscommunication, the second Endbringer was actually Shelob, which Panacea and her sister had encountered months before.

Shelob had saved people.

Shelob had attacked people.

Lung had saved people from Shelob.

Lung and Shelob had been working together to bring down Leviathan.

Lung had attacked people and was a thrall of Leviathan ever since Kyushu, much like a Simurgh victim.

Leviathan had the powers of both the Simurgh and Behemoth, which was proof that there was really only one Endbringer that had a supremely high Changer rating.

Leviathan had simply run through the city, and by doing so had casually killed or grievously wounded almost fifty-percent of the remaining defenders, including Shelob itself.

It was a confusing mess of facts and hearsay and Panacea didn't know what to believe. The only truth she could rely on was in front of her. A warehouse of corpses, people whose blood had literally boiled out of their bodies and cooked them alive. There had been no defense against such an attack, aside from not having blood at all.

There had been no indication that Leviathan had even been _capable _of such an act. She'd already heard whispers. The fears. If Leviathan had been hiding this trump card up its sleeve this whole time, then who knew what Behemoth or the Simurgh had in store for them. It made people fearful of pressing an Endbringer too hard and backing it into a corner, much like Shelob had apparently done.

For some people, the future was a dark, grim thing. They couldn't allow the Endbringers any quarter, yet there was evidence that they would escalate to monstrous levels if pressed. It cast a shadow over their willingness to fight. Their hope was waning, a dying candle flickering in the wind.

Not Panacea. Tomorrow would be the same as it was today. She had healing to do now, she would have healing to do in the future. She didn't believe that future Panacea would be any worse off than the her of today.

Her pace slowed and she stopped, finally looking down at one particular sheet-covered form. A scuffed pair of white boots peeked out from the fabric at one end, a lock of blonde hair curling out from the opposite.

For Panacea, her light in the world had already been snuffed out. Today had already been the most horrible day of her life. How could the future be anything worse?

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

In a dimly lit hanger, in a city far from Brockton Bay, a small twin-jet plane sat in a shadowed corner, momentarily forgotten by its temporary owners. Between blinks, however, a small white spider appeared on the concrete. It spun in a circle to survey its surroundings, then turned back towards the jet and stared through the windows into the interior.

Inside, another spider stirred to life and stepped sideways into nothingness, vanishing into another dimension.

The remaining spider looked around once more, then did the same side-stepping motion, fading into transparency, then disappearing altogether.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

In Brockton General, the corridors were a riot of activity. The building was on generators, the power having long been knocked out by the fighting going on in the city. The staff were busy checking on their patients, prioritising those reliant on outside assistance and leaving the more stable cases for later.

In one of those stable, long-term wards, a figure seized up and twitched slightly, though there was no staff to notice, nor any working machinery to note the increase in bodily functions.

There was no widening of eyes, no sudden lurch into a sitting position, but the figure's head lolled slightly to one side and her mouth opened slightly in a tiny gasp for air.

A slurred voice, thick with numbness and disused vocal cords, softly filled the otherwise empty air.

_"Nai wa…"_


	45. Foreman 4

**Foreman 4**

I'll admit, when the heroes had extended their offer for me to visit their facilities, the inner-child part of me had been hoping that would have let me get access to the Protectorate Base itself. Unfortunately those hopes were dashed once I remembered that the base was currently located two miles inland from the Boardwalk, which would have been a nice location if it weren't for the fact that it was _supposed _to be a fortress floating out in the middle of the _bay_.

Yet another strike against Endbringers. It's not enough that they kill off our populations and cities, but they also destroy childhood dreams. Or what could have been a childhood dream if I'd still been a young boy when capes first appeared.

I didn't really get to see any heroes when I first arrived at the PRT building, the headquarters for the Protectorate's 'police force.' Instead, when I walked up to the fold-out table that seemed to be a stand-in for the destroyed reception desk it was parked in front of, I was directed to an empty conference room by a grim-faced receptionist and told to wait for a representative to speak with me.

The fools had left me alone in a semi-secure area, where I had unsupervised access to the various gizmos and gadgets contained within. They'd given me _unlimited _access to eight chairs, four power outlets, a flat-screen television that didn't get any channels, forty-eight ceiling tiles, and one teleconferencing-capable phone that didn't have any power to it.

Come to think of it, almost _nothing _in the room had power, which I should have assumed given the recent disaster we'd just had. I suppose the fact that it had working lights was the true oddity here.

PRT conference rooms, on a completely unrelated note, did _not _have a proper coffee grinder. Instead they used a powdered mix with a hot-water dispenser and I could _feel _the grittiness of the drink with every sip I took.

Barbarians, the lot of them.

On the other hand, the chairs here could spin. I should look into requisitioning a spinny chair for my office someday. I mean, proper posture is important and all, but how could plastic skids possibly compare to the full-manoeuvrability of a spinny chair set on a secure base of five rolling casters?

…I'd been here for some time, just in case anyone was keeping track.

As I slowly enjoyed reclined, rotary meditation and tallying up the little holes in the porous ceiling tiles (two-hundred, sixty-five and counting), my mind cast back to the mysterious stranger who had spoken with me yesterday.

_"Armsmaster wants to speak with you. You're going to take him up on his offer and have a nice, polite discussion with him,"_ the cape in the black and green bodysuit had told me. _"Feel free to tell him everything you know, everything you can remember. You can also withhold any information you'd care to if you really want, but at least be honest. Armsmaster _really _appreciates honesty._

_"After that, what you do with your time is up to you. But do try to remember _

what _he asks you and _how _he asks it; it might be important knowledge to have. I'll be in touch."_

I blinked and paused in my counting (two-hundred, ninety-two…) to take a sip of the god-awful maybe-coffee. Then I sighed.

What was the point in taking part in double-agent spy games if I couldn't even get some decent drinks around here?

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"Mr. Hebert," a gruff voice said.

I recognised that voice. Not the actual qualities that would have let me identify the person behind the mask, but rather the nuances behind it. This was a voice that was tired, but trying not to show it. A particular tone that said the person had been surviving on coffee or other forms of make-sleep-go-away additives for several days in a row. It was a tone that every office worker who'd had to live through crunch time, long periods of overtime or even doubletime would know.

It was with this recognition that I rose gracefully from my nap—from my _meditation_—to greet the new arrival with all of the professionalism I had left within me. The fact that I ended up nearly sprawled upon the ground with my legs bicycle kicking against the floor to keep me upright instead was simply due to the fact that the spinny chair must have been installed with some form of failed ejection system that I had inadvertently triggered.

Hey, it's a parahuman institution and I was being addressed by one of the local gadgeteer geniuses. Ejector office chairs could totally be a thing here.

I settled for blinking rapidly, innocently, as if nothing untoward had just happened. Deny deny deny. "Armsmaster," I returned in greeting.

On second thought, perhaps a spinny chair would not be a good fit for my office at the DWA.

"Please, don't get up on my account," Armsmaster said. Any other person might have injected a bit of humour or snark into that statement, but the Protectorate leader simply sounded matter-of-fact. He didn't look so good, up close. I hadn't paid much attention in my previous encounter with the hero in favour of trying to puzzle out why he'd been at the DWA, however now that we were in close proximity I could see that that his skin was pale, almost ashen. Veins stood out against the exposed areas of his neck and parts of his cheeks, which themselves seemed somewhat sunken. His armour, whilst it wasn't rattling around as if far too large for the body beneath it, did not seem to move smoothly as if perfectly fitted either. The plating itself showed signs of being replaced, as it was a patchwork of bright, glossy panels mixed with duller, scraped materials. "Be seated."

He suited action to words as his armoured body moved around the table and settled into the chair opposite mine. His chair didn't squeak, crack, or give any sign that it was too much for his armoured weight. _His _posture was picture-perfect, of course, though there was a faint whisper of air as he probably indulged himself with a relaxed sigh.

Well, I'm happy to have brightened your workday even just a little, O Defender of Justice. I surreptitiously braced my arms against the armrests and flexed my shoulders against the chair I'd been slee—sitting in. Huh, this was actually some pretty solid construction. On _third _thought…

"Mr. Hebert," he began. "I would like to first thank you for coming in to speak with me." He spoke with the cadence of someone reading from a script. Since his head was pointed squarely at me, he either always sounded like that or he had a teleprompter built into his visor? Somehow, it felt like the latter suited him more. "You must have a lot of responsibilities and I would hate you too—hate _for _you to be inconvenienced in any way by my request."

Tired _and _teleprompter. I should be a detective.

"I'm happy to be of assistance to Brockton Bay's heroes," I said instead. "What can I do for you?"

"I would first like to make it clear that this is an ordinary conversation between us as ordinary members of the public. This is not to be considered an official dialogue with a member of the Protectorate. This is not an interrogation; you are not compelled to answer if you do not wish to and there will be no legal action taken should you choose to exercise your right of refusal."

"…Oookay?" I had to blink at that. The thought of this being an interrogation had honestly never crossed my mind. Sure, even had Ms. Clover not told me anything I still would have assumed that he wanted to ask me stuff, but I'd been thinking it was more along the lines of _really _wanting to know whatever I…

…okay on second thought, interrogation made sense.

"First things first," he said, tapping at one gauntlet's plating with his other hand and then somehow pulling out a tablet wider than his arm was thick, "to repeat my question from when we last met, do you know anything about… this?"

On the screen he showed me was an image of an off-white pile of fabric that looked vaguely like a canvas bag, though of finer weave than any I had seen before… except on one occasion.

"You picked that up from the DWA offices," I answered. "Some of my personal effects were inside, for some reason. I don't know who sent it, by the way."

He stared at me for a moment, then nodded. "That is correct. This material, and its source, is of great interest to us, although circumstances are such that we have not been able to make our interest public. Tell, what do you know about a parahuman known as 'Shelob'?"

I frowned and searched my memory. That wasn't a name I recognised as belonging to anyone in Brockton Bay's cape scene, but then I hadn't really ever paid much attention to anyone but the big players and how they affected my coworkers. That was more… other peoples' interests. I _did _recognise the reference, since Annette had a full collection of Tolkien's works and had the occasional nerd moments when making shout-outs back in college.

"Nothing specific, though I'm guessing from the context that it's a spider-themed cape?"

"How did you come to such a conclusion?" he asked.

I arched an eyebrow, then pointed at the image on his tablet. "You found a bag made of silk and you're asking me about a cape named after the monster that dwells in _Cirith Ungol._"

"Ah." Somehow I got the impression that he was both pleased and disappointed with that answer. "So you'd never previously heard of anything via hearsay—in person or online?"

"Not at all."

"What about more recently? Anything, even rumours, could be helpful."

"Such as after Leviathan? I hear stories sometimes in the camps. Things like calling it an escaped lab creature from someone named 'Blasto' or that it was _Crawler _and that the Slaughterhouse took part in the Endbringer fight. But other than that I haven't really heard anything beyond random gossip."

"You've heard that in the camps? But nothing on the internet?"

I spread my arms wide, "House is destroyed, I've got no computer or online access."

Armsmaster frowned. "Surely phone service has been restored, I didn't think our infrastructure had been damaged that badly."

"I don't have a mobile," I replied.

"Oh," he said. He shook his head. "Of course, many people have lost personal effects in the wake of this disaster."

"Actually, I haven't owned one in years. I uh… let's just say that my personal beliefs did not mesh well with having one."

He stopped dead at that. I had the impression he was completely dumbfounded. "You don't have—are you some kind of Lud—?" he abruptly cut himself off and grimaced. "Forgive me, that is not a pertinent question. Rather, next I'd like to ask if you've had any contact with any… spider-like creatures recently."

_Eyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyes…_

He must have seen something in my posture since his own seemed to sharpen. "Mr. Hebert, this is a matter of grave importance. I cannot coerce you into an answer, but I must respectfully insist—"

"I was caught outside during the Endbringer fight," I interrupted him in a flat tone. This was not a memory I wanted to relive. I mean, I guess I understood that he was worried about giant monsters wandering around in his city but…

_Eeuurgh…_

"Rescuers found me atop a pile of debris," I continued. "But… I remember being _under _all of it. Trapped by it. And… I think it was a spider that pulled me out."

I shook my head and tipped my paper cup in a half-salute. "This is pretty excellent coffee, by the way. Did I ever mention that?"

Somehow, of everything I'd said up until now, it seemed it was the crack about the refreshments that made the hero drop his chin and glower at me.

"Interesting…" Armsmaster leaned forward, resting his arms against the table's surface. "Why didn't you report the circumstances of your rescue to the authorities?"

"Who'd believe me? The city had just finished dealing with one monster and I was in pretty bad shape at the time. It'd be much easier to pass it off as a stress-induced hallucination."

"You'd be surprised," the Protectorate leader grumbled. "Let me ask you this, then; Shelob first appeared on our radar around the beginning of this year, Mr. Hebert. Can you think of anything of importance that may have happened around that time?"

_A knock on the door. A man in uniform. _Several _men in uniform…_

I took a sip of air to calm my nerves. It didn't quite work since the coffee was long gone. "I'd rather not answer that, if it's all the same to you."

Armsmaster hesitated ever so slightly. If I hadn't been _glaring _at him, I might have missed it.

"I see," he said at last. "Then, have you ever had any moments of lost time? Unexplained blackouts? Unusually vivid dreams, perhaps?"

"Nope, nope, and nope. Well, actually yes to the first, but not unexpected or mysterious. Blackouts tend to happen when you get heavily drunk." I gave him a smile that most definitely did not reach my eyes. "I'll admit to not being in the best mindset at the time, but things had almost been getting better before all of…" I waved a hand around the room, "...all of _this _happened. And I actively try to suppress the memory of any dreams… or nightmares, that I may have. Especially lately."

"Have you been in recent contact with any individuals since that time? People you didn't recognise. Anyone that you feel may have acted in a suspicious manner?"

"Other than you stalking my offices?" I grinned and saluted him with my cup again before leaning back in my chair, gathering my thoughts.

_"You're fine with me telling him everything? Even if he asks about you telling me to do this?"_ I'd asked Ms. Clover.

_"Everything you know,"_ she'd reiterated, then smiled.

It had taken me a moment to parse through what she'd said, searching for the hidden trap. _"I don't know _anything _about you,"_ I'd eventually concluded.

Then she'd winked and pointed two finger guns at me. _Finger guns._ Who still _does _that?

"Actually, yes," I finally said. I straightened and dropped the empty paper cup back to the table. "I did."

I still couldn't see his eyes, but I somehow imagined they'd be blazing with triumph. "Tell me," he said.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Ms. Clover found me as they were serving dinner at the camp, later that night. Baked beans and some sort of rehydrated substance they were trying to pass off as 'meat.' Yum.

"The rabbit crows at the stroke of midnight," she said, seating herself on the bench beside me and pitching her voice so that it barely carried over the sounds of families and friends mingling around the clearing.

I froze in the act of bringing a spoonful of beans towards my mouth. Really, though, she was merely a convenient excuse. I just wasn't all that hungry.

"I'm not quite sure what to say to that," I replied after a few moments.

She was wearing a tattered pullover with a hood pulled over her head, but that actually made her blend in more with most of the other refugees. The air was a bit chillier than most people were used to, especially for those unused to spending nights outside the insulated walls of their homes. The light from the fires contained within a cluster of barrels cast deep shadows across her face and with the way she'd angled her head I could just barely make out the domino mask she was wearing.

"So!" she said. "How'd it go?"

"It went about as well as could be expected," I said noncommittally. "I mean, it's a Protectorate hero talking with a civilian, though he made a point of stating our conversation was to be one between two normal people. Still, there's not a lot of information that can be exchanged in either direction with a power imbalance like that."

"Mhmm," she agreed. "But, you're not just any ordinary person. You're a hiring manager. You have to work with a lot of different personalities and bridge the gap between your contractors and your foremen. You probably got a lot more out of it than most people would."

"If you're trying to impress me with your knowledge of my life, you're going to have to do better than that," I said. "That's pretty much the job description as written up on any corporate webpage."

She frowned, though she didn't really seem to be upset. It was a bit harder to tell than usual with the way her face was hidden in shadow, but the rest of her body language spoke volumes. Since I didn't have as much skill at reading people as she'd implied I had, I had to assume she was exaggerating her movements on purpose.

"You're stalling," she complained, leaning forward and propping her head against one fist. "What did Armsmaster say? Anything of interest, you think?"

"I think…" I said slowly, "That I have no reason to get involved in a power play between two capes, or even two groups of capes. I'd rather just be left alone, if it's all the same to you."

She made a disgruntled sound. "Oh, fine. I see I'll need to sweeten the pot a bit in order to get you to ante up."

"No, you really don't. I really _do _just want to be left alone."

She ignored my statement in favour of leaning closer, the top edge of her hood almost brushing against my head. "When was the last time you saw your daughter?" she whispered.

Now, I worked as a hiring manager and moonlighted as a human resources manager. That's pretty much a nine-to-five office job. I spend most of my days tabulating spreadsheets, keeping track of our contractors' hours, and occasionally making sure the breakroom for the office is well-stocked on paper towels and disposable tableware.

That said, I was still a hiring manager for the Dockworker's Association. I got down and dirty with the boys (and girls, we are an equal-opportunity employer after all). Blue collar jobs don't do 'corporate picnics' or things like that. When we go out to have fun, we go _out _to have _fun_.

…Also I was a somewhat angry kid who grew up into an angry man, though for the most part I could control my temper. That said, when said temper blew its lid, after-action reports have claimed the results to be _astounding_.

And nothing pushes my buttons more than threats to my family… what was left of it, anyhow.

My hooks, left or right-handed, are nothing to sneeze at. When a coworker gets a bit rowdy at the bar and someone needs to slap some sense into him, for some reason that someone usually ends up being me. And if slaps wont work, then sending them in for an early night was always an option, assuming their level of sobriety was low enough and their threat level became high enough.

And as I said, I firmly believe in equal opportunities for men and women… in _all _things.

As close as she was, my punch should have taken my unwanted dinner companion in the cheek and sent her spinning to the dirt. I could have calmly stood up afterwards and walked towards another area of the clearing to resume my eating in peace. Fistfights weren't uncommon in the camps these days, but so long as they didn't last very long, not a lot of people cared. It wouldn't have been any more noticeable than someone taking a dog for a walk.

Instead, Ms. Clover somehow reacted fast enough to lean forward, shrugged her shoulder _just so_, and instead of meeting her face, my hand sailed behind her head. Somehow it ended up draped companionably across her back as she straightened her posture and her mouth twisted into a rather annoying smirk.

"I'll start, then," she said, still quiet enough that sound wouldn't carry, but loud enough that I could hear how her voice had lost all humorous inflection in favour of a matter-of-fact tone. "You last saw her three days ago, shortly before you checked yourself out of the hospital. That was roughly five days after the Endbringer attack and your admittance."

"Still not impressing me," I hissed. "And I'm not squeamish about touching a strange woman enough to keep from putting her into a choke-hold."

"Your daughter checked herself out of the hospital two days ago. Maybe two and a half. She's awake, she's on foot, and she's _missing_."

The tension left my body and I felt, more than heard, the leftovers of my dinner hitting the ground and splashing across my boots as my hands went limp. "I should have been there," I muttered. "How could I not know about this? Why didn't someone contact me?"

"Landlines are out," she reminded me. "And someone may have mentioned that you don't carry mobile phones?"

…Fuck.

_"Fuck,"_ I spat. I stood up abruptly, Ms. Clover remaining seated even as I loomed over her. "I need to find her."

"That's the idea," she said. "You'd know her best, her habits, her hideouts, whatnot. Right?"

Another wave of despair rippled through me. "I used to," I whispered. "I feel like I haven't known her for months, lately. Possibly even longer."

"Or shorter," she muttered.

I raised my hand to pinch the bridge of my nose, shoving my glasses across my forehead. "Why do you even care?" I asked. "Why would anyone in your position want anything to do with me or my family?"

_"I_ don't," she said frankly. "But my employer apparently does, and she's tasked me with being the outstretched hand. You can take it or not, as you will." She smoothly rose to her feet and stepped forward to bring us side by side, me still facing the campfire, her facing towards the perimeter. "The choice is yours, but we're apparently going to seek out your daughter, whether you help us or not."

I gave my eyes one more pass with my fingers before settling my glasses back into place, a snatch of conversation from earlier in the day flashing through my mind.

_"Shelob first appeared on our radar around the beginning of this year, Mr. Hebert. Can you think of anything of importance that may have happened around that time?"_

Five months ago… had it truly been that long?

I sighed. "I'll help you out, so long as you help me out as well. I… I would very much like to see my daughter safe and sound."

She reached up and patted my shoulder. "Well then, I guess we'll start by pretending you asked me to take you to my leader." She briefly paused in midstep. "Actually, let's start again with your impressions of Brockton's Master of Arms's conversational skills."


	46. Ungoliant 1

**Ungoliant 1**

A life or death struggle. A fight where only one can live to walk away. A battle that you _know_ you've got in the bag when suddenly your opponent flips the rules on you and cheats like the cheating cheater they are.

It's enough to make you see red. Really gets your blood _boiling!_

…Which really doesn't feel all that great, take it from me. I really don't understand people who self-describe as battle maniacs. Having your blood boiled into a red mist is not a pleasant sensation!

But I'm safe! I have es-ca-ped! I have my _own_ bullshit trump card and it's even better because it's so secret that even _I_ didn't know about it!

But… where did I escape to?

It's kinda dark again. I can't see anything at all…

Plus, I'm feeling a bit pressed in.

Aw nuts, did I jump to a clone in hammerspace?

Shields!

Hmm… nothing. Not even anything for the light to reflect off of, although I guess that'd happen if hammerspace was empty and there's nothing in here. Did I use up everything I had stored away in the last fight?

Boo.

Whelp, nothing for it. Time to make my way out, boop!

…Boop!

Nothing's happening. Maybe because I'm not doing the proper somatic component?

_Hrrrgh_…

I can't move! What's going on?! My body feels strange!

Am I trapped? I'm trapped in here!

No way!

No way no way _no way!_

No…

Oh geez, now I… feel… tired…

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"_Still… …?"_

"_Stable."_

"…_side effects?"_

"_None. The IV… …wasn't… …by the outage."_

"_Hook her… …up and… …ve on."_

Mrrrgh…?

"_Yes, Doct… Sir, what… …the chart say about… …heartbeat?"_

"…_do you ask?"_

"_I swear I felt… …pulse… …slightly."_

"_We're standing… …bed talking… …Coma… …have _some _reaction to outside… …not consciously. When do you… …the last time …received visitors? …move on… …just one patient and we… …entire room to…"_

"_Yes, Doctor."_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"—_ddo."_

Huh? W-wuzzat?

"_Hey, just… …know that… …is fine. Leviathan didn't… …all of us. Almost… …got to the shelters in… …except… …morons."_

This… isn't the same as the earlier voices.

Also, shouldn't I be worried that I'm hearing voices?

"_Do you remember…? He was the… …used to bring… …whenever you came to visit the Docks? …idiot's …in here for a sprained… …when he was… …rescue… I'd always told… …proper lifting posture… …enough people… …team lift. Ha ha ha…"_

I mean, I've been hearing voices a lot, especially lately. But they were just me… and me. So, that makes it better, right?

"…_well, Kiddo. Brockton's still… Everything's gonna… …someday."_

Why does that voice sound somewhat familiar and why do I want to slap him across the face to make him stop saying that?

"_Everything's… gonna get better… someday."_

Man, he's boring me to death.

I mean, why else am I so… tired… still…?

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_Biiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii~_

So… loud.

So… _annoying…_

"_Doctor! Doctor! I'm definitely seeing signs of an elevated pulse."_

Still so heavy… or restrained?

Mrrgh… feeling somewhat swaddled. Or trapped. Definitely in something far too constraining around my body again.

Aww, geez. Did I spin my Home too small? How big did I grow _this_ time?

_Mrrgh…_

"_Yes, there! I saw a hand twitch! I think she's coming out of it!"_

"_Oh dear… and her father just checked out today. Call him back!"_

"_I've already tried, his listed number is out of service!"_

"_Send a runner!"_

"_It's been almost an hour already, he could be anywhere."_

What's all that _noise?_ They don't sound like the mini-mes… or…

Swarm-in-Charge? Hey, you! Where are you at! You better not be hiding in the background snickering at my predicament! My body isn't working right, take over and cut me loose!

_Swarm-in-Charge?!_

Where are you?!

Geez… this body sucks, so tired already a…

…gain…

"_Miss Hebert! Miss Hebert! Stay with me! Miss Hebert!"_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Ow.

Let there not be light, please. It hurts! _Hisssssssss._

It's a very bright light. I guess that's another mark against the stuck in hammerspace theory. Ow. Well, at least I can get out of here now. I mean, all I need is line of sight. Even if all I can see is white and grey, that's gotta let me get somewhere!

Blink!

Erm, nothing happened?

Blink blink blink!

Uhmm…?

"Miss Hebert…?"

Wait, is that directed at me? Who's there?!

Ahah! You thought you could hide from me, you… blob of… blobiness? A white blur! I'm on to you, Leviathan! You thought you could trick me with… sound tricks. Must be some hidden water power I'm not aware of!

…Why _are _you so blurry?

You fiend! You may have tried to disable my vision, but I can still see you reaching for me! I'm not gonna let that slide!

Spider slice!

…

_WHY CAN'T I MOVE?!_

Must run away, must run away, mustrunaway!

BLINK BLINK BLINK!

A cold pressure slides along the sides of my head and I prepare myself for whatever attack is about to slice off my head.

It's okay! I can take it! I can make spares! Just… need to figure out the glitch in my blinking first…

"Here you go, dear. You seemed like you needed them."

Eh? EH?!

_Blink blink blink._

I can see clearly now! Huh, the rain is gone; I guess Leviathan isn't around anymore.

I can see all obstacles in my—you're not Leviathan.

You… look like a person in a papery jumpsuit that is really not flattering to your figure. A doctor? A nurse? I can't really tell the difference. But it's a person! A human! And...

And she's not running and screaming from me? I mean, she is pulling away, but it looks like she's leaning back after having put something over my head. Is it a crown? Did I just get crowned champion of the realm?

Success! SUCCESS! The people of Brockton love me now! They rescued me from Leviathan and I'm getting all the care and attention that people not irrationally afraid of spiders will give! Goodbye, lonely spider life! Hello, hero of the people!

"Miss Hebert, how are you feeling?"

Miss Hebert? That's me!

…That _is _me, right? Wait, why would she know that I'm a 'Miss Hebert?'

Hang on… this thing she put over my head…

Oh, good, I can move my legs! They feel a bit heavier than usual, but then I guess this body I found was pretty out of—that's not my leg. It's much too… not pointy.

Uh…

_Wiggle wiggle._

These are…

Yeah, these are hands. Then this thing on my face is…

Glasses? Glasses off!

Yep, blurry. Glasses on!

Sight!

Blink blink blink.

Oh my… I can actually blink now! I have eyelids!

That means…

Wait…

That means…

O-one more test… Hand number one? Check. Hand number two? Check.

Is my face made of skin or is this chitin?

_Moosh moosh moosh moosh._

It's… so… _squishy!_

"…Miss Hebert, are you… alright?"

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"Second row."

I hold out one finger, then spin my wrist.

Up. Left. Up.

"Fifth row."

I narrow my eyes, but unfortunately that one is all Greek to me.

"Here." A black blob is thrust out in my direction and I pick up my glasses.

"Try again; fifth row?"

Left. Left. Right. Down. Up. Down. Right. Down.

"Well, your prescription still seems to be accurate, which is fortunate for you. I'm still concerned about your blood pressure, since you seem to have, ah, burst blood vessels in both of your eyes. It doesn't seem to be affecting you much, but I'd be careful about that, if I were you."

Uh-huh. Sure.

Seeing was… normal, I guess? The glasses certainly helped, but my field of vision felt so narrow with only two eyes. Two _bad_ eyes, at that. I no longer had complete three-sixty degree awareness and even within the scope of what was before me, objects further than a metre or so were completely incomprehensible to me.

Speech was… a trial. So many months in a coma left any vocalizations slurred and garbled, which the doctor overseeing my recovery had put down to all sorts of things he claimed _could_ be side effects of being in a coma.

The fact that I was otherwise more or less coherent and responsive to their directions was a positive sign. Still, though, I had been warned that self-sufficiency would be a long and arduous process.

I'd been told that all attempts to contact Danny Hebert had so far met with failure, though they had tried to reassure me; stressing that 'with the current situation being what it is' it was only to be expected. It was rather odd, seeing how they tip-toed around the subject of actually _saying_ that the city had suffered an Endbringer attack… probably since they didn't want to shock me into a relapse, or something.

Haha, jokes on you, you quacks. I'm perfectly fine, mentally or otherwise.

Well, except for seeing, inability to speak coherently, and—oh, walking, too. Again, atrophied muscles were the diagnosis of the day. My entire body seemed to have gotten lazy in the few months I wasn't home. Whilst I could see the point, as my limbs were definitely not as sturdy as I recalled they _should_ have been, it just felt like my whole centre of gravity was off. Again, going from eight legs down to two?

_Why_ had I wanted to get back into this body again? I was honestly starting to feel let down, just a bit.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

"You'll have someone check back with us? Say, a week?" The nurse who'd escorted me to the entryway wrings her hands nervously.

I try to give her a smile, though even I can tell that it's probably screwed up all weird and awkward-like, and give her a thumbs up as I head off into the city. The nurse watches me traverse the first few metres as if waiting for me to collapse or turn around with second thoughts. After a few more seconds, however, she finally turns around and heads back inside.

The hospital staff hadn't wanted to release me so soon. I still needed observation to make sure I was recovering well enough. I needed someone to take me home so they could rest assured I wasn't going to simply keel over in the street somewhere. Their mandate was to ensure I left healthier than I'd arrived. It would be the height of irresponsibility for them to let me go off on my own.

Unfortunately, 'circumstances being what they were,' they also couldn't pass up the opportunity to release an otherwise healthy patient. Hundreds and thousands of people had suffered injury or illness in the wake of Leviathan's attack and Brockton General simply wasn't equipped to handle the load they were under. My leaving freed up beds, valuable staff and equipment, and other resources.

They still hadn't been able to contact Danny—Daddy, my dad, Father?—either, but I'd been able to hunt down the visitor's log and point out a certain 'Melody Fitzgerald' as someone I could crash with until more permanent accommodations could be arranged.

An attempt had been made to contact Melody to confirm the arrangement, but like with… my dad, they hadn't been able to reach her. They had, however, gotten a rather curt voicemail prompt on the number that had been listed, so they'd settled for leaving a message and wrangling a promise from me to call back.

If nothing else, communicating all of this via pantomime—really, just pointing at various objects and trying to make expressive eyebrow movements—makes me glad for the relative flexibility of my fingers and face. That is at least _one_ thing that's an improvement over my old spider body.

It's easy to make them believe that I'm committing to this promise, they want so much to believe in me—that they aren't shirking their duty. I mean, whatever assuages their conscience?

It almost makes me feel bad that I have no intention of going back to Faultline.

At least… not right now. Sure, she's got a big place with lots of room and food, plus lots of like-minded company where I don't need to hide who or what I am. But… now I can go home. As myself. On my own two feet.

A glance down at the wheeled deathtrap I'm sitting in, then at the cracked and debris-laden street in front of the hospital.

Well, _almost _on my own two feet.

I mean, at least it'll make it harder to chicken out and run away? Unless…

I squeeze my eyes and think bullshit black hole thoughts.

…

Nope, didn't think that would work anyhow.

Anyway, onwards, to _home!_

…Wait, didn't the people trying to contact my dad mention that his phone was disconnected? He doesn't own a mobile, so the only phone they could have the number to was the house phone.

…Shit, is the house even still _standing?_

I… may not have thought this through.

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

Note to self: I am a moron and I shouldn't be trusted with life-or-death situations ever again.

It's been so long that anything but extreme temperatures has bothered me that I've forgotten what it's like!

I couldn't even find anyone to take me in! There were construction workers and volunteers out in force whilst I was wheeling towards the city, but once the sun began to set they all vanished before I could even think to flag one down. I have no idea where they all went, and the power being out means that so are the street lights! It's so _weird_ seeing a city this dark at night!

There's still a dim glow backlighting some of the taller structures, so I know there's light _somewhere. _Light means refugee camps, but I'm in no shape to navigate the streets as they are right now. I could find my own shelter, but those are hard to come by, too! I barely have a light blanket that a helpful nurse had used to cushion my seat and it's _chilly_. The humidity left over from a hydrokinetic splashing all over the place isn't helping either. I'd somehow completely forgotten that _I can't spin up a Home anymore!_

…and I'm hungry. I've always heard horror stories about hospital food, but come to think of it, I didn't stay long enough to partake. I think I'd still take it over _this_. I can't even catch an alley cat as I am now… and somehow something inside of me doesn't relish attempting to do so.

What were those doctors thinking?! Why would they let me go outside when I'm this completely unprepared! They should all lose their licenses!

They should never have let someone like me bully them into letting me out!

This is totally all their fault.

Grrrr… Grrr… _Brrrrrrrrrrrrr…_

I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'll try to be good.

Somebody save me!

Somebody~!

Aww nuts… everything's blurry again. The glasses aren't… they aren't helping.

_Sniff._ And something's wrong with the air now. _Sniff… sniff hic._

God damnit, stupid h-human body.

At least being seated in a wheelchair makes it easier to just huddle up into a ball…

_Sniffle…_

/╲/\╭ºo_oº╮/\╱\

_Poke._

Mrrrghh…

_Poke poke._

Five more minutes… honest.

_Jab._

OW! What the hell was that? Who do you think… you…

_Eyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyeseyes…_

…are?

Were my eyes always that red?

"Swaaaaaa~"

Ergh, _hack._ Right. Can't speak, still.

Still! I jerk in my chair.

Swarm-in-Charge! You're back!

A giant white spider simply stares back at me.

Silently.

Hrm… nope, nothing in my ears. Hey, can you hear me? I mean, I'm not vocalising, but this is how we've always talked, right?

The spider bobs on its legs.

Great! That's perfect!

Except… I can't hear you. Swarm-in-Charge, speak up!

…

Swarm-in-Charge reaches out with her limbs (_whoa, those look a lot bigger and sharper up close_) and pokes my shoulders. Pokes my head. Pokes my legs, my torso, my che—

Hey, hey! They may be nonexistent, but I'm still a pure-hearted maiden! Claws off!

The limbs slowly retract.

That's better. Hey, now you can help me out! I'm trying to get home, wanna give me a lift?

Swarm-in-Charge seems to vibrate in place. Uhh, that doesn't look healthy. You might want to get that taken care of?

A sharp-tipped claw suddenly is jabbed into my face.

Whoa!

The limb is pointed at me with several precise jabs, as if punctuating sentences. Then both front legs are pulled back and Swarm-in-Charge jabs them into her herself with a sharp _clak_.

I… I still can't hear anything. Nothing verbally, mentally, or otherwise. But I'm somehow getting an impression that something is screaming '_WHY (not?) ME?!'_

Swarm-in-Charge pauses, then jabs her leg towards me again.

Uhm… why me?

Another jab, just barely short of my glasses.

'Why you'?

The legs clap against herself again.

'Why not me?'

_CRACK._

Both legs stab into the concrete on either side of my wheelchair and Swarm-in-Charge is suddenly in my face, eyes glowing a bright red. Those eyes suddenly seem a lot larger than I remember being. Maybe my body is just small?

No, no, I distinctly remember being one of the taller girls in school.

Well, it makes sense, I guess? I'm the original. Or I was the original? I was Main Body-in-Charge. You were my copy, right?

_CRACK._

The legs uproot themselves and slam themselves into the wall of the alleyway where I've taken refuge in.

…right?

Swarm-in-Charge proceeds to march over my head and begins ascending the alley's walls.

W-wait! Hey, where are you going?!

Swarm-in-Charge! I need your help! You wouldn't leave me here, would you?! I could literally die!

The giant white spider pauses in her climb. Then, with a brief shiver of the air, a relatively tiny spider pops into existence and falls onto my face, blocking my view.

_GWAAAAAAH!_

"_... gwaaaaaaaah!"_

By the time I can get my body's involuntary twitching under control (and it's gotta be involuntary. I used to be a spider myself! I should be used to this!) the smaller spider has migrated to the crown of my head…

…and Swarm-in-Charge is gone.

Wait.

Wait wait wait.

She left me. She really left me!

What the _bloody fuck?!_

The smaller spider twitches at my mental shriek and moves forward to stare at me from above, upside down.

No, not you. That stupid… _traitor!_ How could she leave me like this?!

_Pat pat pat…_

The spider begins drumming her legs against my head.

…

I will accept this offering, but it changes _nothing_.


End file.
